Lost
by sheffers
Summary: Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos many people are in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing, feared dead. His girlfriend Ginny Weasley sets out for one of those camps. Full summary inside
1. Prologue

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Prologue: Lost

A state of nervous tension mingled with an anxious feeling of excitement filled the large room that normally served as a spectacular dining room. The huge area, despite the hundreds of teenagers and the five vast tables, normally had a spacious feeling. There was a vibrant feeling that circulated amongst the laughter as school pupils swapped stories, jokes, essays and occasionally among the older students, kisses.

Tonight, however, the lively and buoyant atmosphere of youth had been replaced by a sober and solemn one. The hall in which they had all spent so many evenings was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic; a feeling that was only intensifying as each minute passed. Despite the fact that there were at least a hundred witches and wizards in the room, the eerie silence meant that you could hear a pin drop.

Families huddled together and bodies were intertwined. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were holding onto each other in a tight embrace. Their heads so close that Tonks' shocking pink hair clashed horribly with Lupin's greying mousey brown as they brushed against each other. The mutilated and scarred face of Bill Weasley was a harsh reminder to all in the hall as he sat talking to his younger brother, Charlie instead of spending time at The Burrow with his wife and eight-day-old son, Alastor. In the opposite corner Neville Longbottom had convinced Luna Lovegood to join him and Dean Thomas in a game of exploding snap and was now smiling rather guiltily as he attempted not to laugh.

In every corner of the room people were savouring the last moments to be had with their families, friends and lovers, trying not to think about the battle that was due to start within the hour, and reminiscing and re-creating memories of happier times.

Yet a young witch had isolated herself from the rest of the crowd, preferring for a change solitude instead of the masses of company that usually were her audience. Dressed all in black from head to toe, only her vibrant red hair made her stand out from the masses. The girl that was normally the life and soul of a party and the heartbeat of any room she entered was subdued.

She sat in a corner with her arms tightly wrapped around her knees as she stared into the bewitched sky that had been darkened with deep grey clouds. She drifted into a series of wonders as she stared. Oblivious to the noises around her she chose to focus on her hopes and fears instead of pointless discussions and games.

Tonight was the night when she might lose him forever, and that's all that mattered. No matter that they were doing the right thing and that they could make better lives for millions, all that mattered to her at the very moment was the fact she was on the verge of potentially losing him. And she hated herself for being so emotionally feeble. She had known this had been coming all along and she would hate herself if she stopped it. Harry would not be the man she loved if he ran away from the fight. It was the right thing to do to rid the world of Voldemort; to put an end to the fear people were living in and to the evil that had taken over, but none of that made tonight any easier.

After months of looking for and destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes, the last one to be found was Slytherin's locket and another seventh of the evil dictator's soul. Mere hours after Voldemort's immortality had been eliminated and reduced him back to Tom Riddle, a meeting had been called for the Order of the Phoenix and they had quickly learnt how vast an organisation it was. It was vital that they acted quickly so as not to give Voldemort another chance to become immortal by killing more innocent people. And while Harry, as well as everyone knew that, Harry was the one who must face Voldemort alone, no one present at the meeting had hidden from the opportunity to distract the Death Eaters, giving Harry every advantage they could. Any alternative to running away from the war was just unthinkable.

So after years of waiting, the end was now in sight. One way or another, the world was going to be a very different place in the morning. The man that had destroyed so many lives and haunted their nights was facing the man who gave hope to the same lives and dreams. There really was no other choice; it had gone on far too long as it was and too many people had died. It was time to end it all. They all knew that at the end of the day, they weren't all going to live to see the end of the story and the new world they had created. The person at the most risk was Harry.

A strong hand slipped around her petite one and drew Ginny Weasley out of her thoughts. "Can I have a word, Gin?"

Ginny let him help her up as she slowly rose to her feet and re-entered the same Hogwarts Great Hall as everyone else instead of being locked in her thoughts. She looked into her boyfriend's green eyes and smiled softly at him. And the warmth from his hand spread through her body and gave her confidence.

She had never seen Harry's face looking so fiercely determined. And just as Voldemort had collected his own trophies as Horcruxes for his protection, it seemed that Harry had collected a few of his own protective trophies inspired by love. Harry's trophies were far from cursed diaries, but instead took the form of the photographs that filled his battered old wallet. Photos taken of his parents, Sirius, Ron and Hermione, the whole Weasley family and herself. Photos that conjured feelings and emotions that Voldemort had no hope of ever understanding due to his eagerness to split his soul and inability to love another person, the very things that would equip Harry to emerge victorious after the night's events.

"Yeah, 'course you can," She said softly, almost whispering. There was no need for loud voices or attention drawing statements. "When have I ever said "no" to you?"

"Plenty of times, like that time you wouldn't let me help you with your bridesmaid dress," Harry said with a mischievous grin and his eyes twinkled, marking a remarkable difference in his whole face. "But, not here, let's go somewhere more private."

She raised her eyebrows. "And why would we need to do that?"

"Because I want to tell you something."

"Okay, okay."

Slowly and in silence, she let Harry lead her away from the masses of people in the Great Hall. Sometimes there was just no need for talking; each knew how the other felt without the need for constant reassurance. It was almost as if they were two halves of the same person and today was one of those times. Harry did not need to talk for her to tell he was feeling nervous, a little scared and relieved that it was all going to end soon. She knew that already. Just as she knew the only reason he had pulled away from the rest of them was to do something noble again.

The waxing crescenthalf-crescent moon that had earlier been blocked by dark grey clouds, shone down upon them as they crossed the Hogwarts grounds towards the moonlit lake. The lake was one of the most impressive features of the school grounds and the place where all students past had enjoyed many a sunny afternoon with their friends. The very lake held so many memories for them as well, both of the happy and sad variety.

It was by this lake after an exhilarating Quidditch match that they had spent a steamy couple of hours together as they became a couple in the shade under a tree. Then just months later, an act of nobility had prematurely ended their relationship after Dumbledore's funeral. Barely five months after that, it was by the Hogwarts lake that a mournful Harry had taken her on her release from the hospital wing and they had resumed their relationship. It had not taken long to come to the conclusion that they were both in danger as neither of them where withdrawing from the fight.

Yet something from the circumstances of the day and the walk that they had taken down from the castle told her that this was not going to be another happy memory.

Ginny picked up a stone off the ground. She held it up to take a more careful look at the grey pebble before, with a flick of her wrist, throwing it into the water. The stone skimmed across the water and she chose to watch it for a couple of seconds instead of turning to face Harry. She just needed a minute to compose herself before she was victim of another act of Harry Potter nobility.

"It's amazing how something so small can make so many ripples," she said softly as she slowly turned around to face him.

He smiled gently back at her. "Well the best things do come in small packages."

"I'll remind you of that on your birthday," she replied, returning his smile.

Harry gave a warm laugh. "I'm sure you will," he said in an uplifting and confident voice before pausing and taking her hand. He pulled her closer to him as he continued in an equally assured tone of voice. "I actually brought you down here to ask you something."

"Ask away," she replied in a nonplussed tone as she adopted a plain look on her face.

A broad smile had graced his lips and he let out a small breath. "Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?"

Her mouth dried up in an instant and it felt like her heart had stopped. This was the last thing in the world she had been expecting and she was not quite sure how to take it. Slowly as she started to regain her senses, she pulled her hand out of his and studied his face. Was this some kind of practical joke or was he being serious? It was just so out of the blue, but then why would Harry joke about something like that?

"What did you just say?" she asked uncertainly.

If Harry had any doubt over her reply, he didn't show it. Instead he remained confident as he spoke. "Will you marry me?"

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said quietly as she forcibly stopped tears escaping from her eyes, "but I can't."

She had never imaged that there would ever be a time when she would answer that question with a 'no' and she had dreamed about Harry asking it so many times. Yet something deep down was telling her that saying 'yes' would be the wrong answer to give and she always trusted her gut reactions.

He looked puzzled. "Why can't you?"

"Because it's not the right time," she said firmly, unwilling to elaborate on her statement.

"What's time got to do with it?" he asked, a frown forming on his brow.

She couldn't help feeling a little guilty about his confusion but just as confident that she was doing the right thing. Getting engaged before a battle was both irresponsible and completely defeatist. Quickly she racked her brain for the right words to explain her actions.

Casting her eyes downwards, she spoke simply in a quiet but carrying voice. "The fact is, that you are only asking me tonight," she paused briefly as she took a deep breath to regain her confidence, "because you're facing him."

"What does it matter if that prompted this?" he asked stubbornly.

"'Cause you can't be thinking of me out there. You've got much more important things to be thinking about. You've got to be on your game tonight," she replied with all the courage she could muster. "And what happens after tonight, tomorrow and next week when all the euphoria dies down? I mean, I'm not even of age, Harry, I'm coming back here next year, not learning to be a wife. There's been so much going on in our lives, I mean we haven't exactly had a normal relationship as it is. Neither of us knowknows how different things will be after tomorrow." She took a deep breath and ignored her heart throbbing against her ribcage. "And there's some small part of you that is asking because you don't think you'll see it through the night."

"No," he said quickly as he carefully chose his words, "I'm asking because I'm going to make it through this." He softly pushed her hair out of her eyes. "And tomorrow when my new life starts, I want you to be by my side."

"I'll always be by your side, Harry, no matter what happens." She caught his hand in hers as he lowered it and gave it a small encouraging squeeze. "Ask me again, tomorrow."

He gave her a bullish smile as his whole face positively beamed. "And you'll say yes then?"

"I'll think about it then." She gave him her own impish grin. "Let's get the world back to normal first."

Leaning forward, she placed a small kiss on his lips. He captured her as she pulled back and tugged her closer towards him, his hands resting on her bum as he gave it a slight squeeze. She didn't object as he kept a firm hold on her, unwilling to let her go. Her lips parted as his tongue entered her mouth, and her heart began to race as the pair of tongues twisted in a slow dance with each other. Ginny ran a hand through his hair as she lost herself in the kiss and all thoughts of battle disappeared, only concerning herself with Harry's lips.

Slowly and reluctantly she pulled away from him. "Go. Go, and be a hero."


	2. Chapter One

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Chapter One: Displaced

"HARRY! HARRY!" a panicked voice screamed into the air, hoping that someone, anyone could hear her and help her, help them. Cold tears flooded down her hot face, just like they had done so many times before. Her breath was ragged as she let out another call into the air, "Harry!"

It had all been so real, just like the night he had disappeared and she had chased to the back of beyond looking for him. She had run and Apparated around the whole country looking for him. Finally she had ended up in Little Hangleton before a big manor house before she had been hit.

A good few minutes later, after a lot of deep, controlled breaths, her heart slowly managed to calm down and return to its normal pace. Staring around the room, she gradually began to come back to her senses. She was no longer frantically searching for him after he had disappeared from her sight, but alone and at home in the small box bedroom. There were no curses being hurled all over the place as she barely escaped with her life, unlike Harry, but in her bed in the unnaturally quiet Weasley family house.

The small bedroom at The Burrow had all the hallmarks of belonging to a teenage girl. A small single bed filled the majority of the room. Since her family would never dream that she would need anything else, and having been single since the final battle, she hadn't needed a double. There was a small wardrobe and a chest of drawers stuffed full of dark clothes that would help the wearer fade into the background. A mismatched desk and chair were covered in photographs of herself and Harry from their last couple of years of bliss before the battle had taken place last year... Despite the backdrop of war, their relationship had made her the happiest she had ever been.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and reached over to the desk to pick up the nearest photograph. Soft tears fell down her face as she watched Harry in the photograph grabbing her sixteen year old self around the waist and hugging her as he pulled her in for a kiss. Those kisses that had always sent her heart trembling in a state of excitement and filled her from head to toe with a sense of peace and belonging. They had never looked as happy as in those few hours that they had spent in the sunlit Hogwarts grounds as just a pair of teenagers in love.

"Why did you have to leave?" she muttered aimlessly into the air as her eyes stared, fixed on the moments of unabridged happiness. Moments pulled away from her by the harsh reality of the aftermath of battle. "Why did you leave me alone, Harry? You were meant to marry me. Damn it, Harry; you even proposed. You promised me that you would be around to see that through, 'cause I was going to say "yes."

Slowly she placed the photograph back down in its place on the desk. She wiped her eyes on a mixture of her bare skin and the end of the old t-shirt in which she slept in an attempt to dry her tears as she heard footsteps on the stairs. He was gone; sixteen months worth of nightmares and dreams marred with disappointment as reality hit when she woke up that the battle was not going to change that. Dreams would not bring him back to her, no matter how much she wanted it to.

"Ginny," her mother's soft voice came through the door as it creaked open and the aged face of Mrs Weasley appeared. She let out a small, exasperated sigh as she made her way over to her youngest child. "Oh, Ginny."

"Hey, Mum," she said weakly as she dropped her eyes to avoid her mum's penetrating gaze. "I'm okay, I swear."

Molly Weasley sat down on the end of her bed and leaned over towards her little girl. Softly she tipped her daughter's face up and moved her damp hair out of her eyes. "I know you're not okay. I know you've not been okay for a while, dear, and after everything you've been through, there's no shame in that," she explained gently. "You were dreaming about Harry."

It was not a question, but a fact. Her mum, as well as anyone else who knew her was aware that her nights were filled with images of Harry. Her dreams of Harry were becoming less frequent as each day passed. Dreams that had started off as nightly occurrences had begun to disappear as slowly the days had turned into weeks, months and now it had been over a whole year. A year since Harry had gone missing along with Voldemort on that fatal night, and now it was four hundred and ten days since she had last seen him.

Gradually she was losing the only form of contact that she had left with Harry. No matter how bad her nightmares were, she didn't want to lose them. Her night time visions were the only chance she had left to see him and to hear his voice. If that disappeared, what did she have left? She may be wallowing in his memory and unwilling to let go of those memories, but she couldn't bear her life not to include Harry.

She still loved him and no amount of time that passed would change that.

While the Wizarding world had been celebrating the demise of an evil dictator and the return to normality, she had entered a period of depression, mourning and guilt. Although she put on a strong front and a good act, her family and close friends had learnt over time that inside she was in pain, and misery filled her every bone. She had never told anyone about the final conversation that she had had with Harry. That was her own shameful secret and the root of the guilt she felt. That her last ever words to Harry had been a rejected marriage proposal haunted her every breath.

As if to add to her misery and guilt, in the weeks that followed the battle, she had been lying in St Mungo's recovering from Lucius Malfoy's Abrumpereas Curse. Those were the weeks that she should have been looking for him. Yet she had spent two days unconscious and a further five days after she had woken before her shattered bones had recovered enough to raise her right wand hand.

"_Harry?" she groaned. "Harry?"_

_Her eyes fluttered open as she groggily started to wake. As consciousness returned to her, her eyes started to focus and she slowly looked around at her surroundings. She had been propped up by several pillows in a steel bed with spotless white covers covering her from her breast downwards. The room was crowded and she was surrounded by a mass of people with red hair and worried looks etched across their faces._

_She tried to pull herself up further in the bed, but her body rejected the call. It felt like a useless dead weight that had been immobilised by some kind of curse. Her breath quickened as she tried to stop a sense of panic from taking over her frozen body. Instead she tried to focus on facts and calm down, establish where she was. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to work out exactly who was there as well as reading their faces to work out what had happened._

_Mrs Weasley had quickly stood up from her chair next to the hospital bed. The older woman wore large bags around her eyes and an increased number of wrinkles across her uncommonly pale face. Standing next to her mum was her dad, who looked equally as exhausted as he leaned on a chair. It was as if the pair of them had not slept for days, which they probably hadn't. All six of her older brothers' faces shared her parents' look of a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Hermione, along with Fleur, whose arms where cradling her infant son, where mixed in amongst the red heads. Despite her dazed state, she could tell instantly that someone was missing._

"_Ginny," her mum said in a strained voice as her dad squeezed her mum's hand, "how are you feeling?"_

"_I'm fine," she lied through gritted teeth. She didn't want to be fussed over and hardly cared that her whole body ached. In fact there was only one thing she cared about. "Where's Harry?"_

_Silence met her words but no one met her gaze. Hermione actually turned away and was comforted by Ron. Something just was not right._

_Her eyes welled with tears as the pain of comprehension hit her. There could only be one reason why Harry would not be beside her. And that had to be that he couldn't be here. Harry had never failed to be there when she needed him, like she had never left his side. _

_Her voice could not hide her sense of panic as she spoke: Harry had to be okay. "Where's Harry? What's happened? Where's Harry?"_

"_You were hit with a curse," Molly Weasley explained softly as she bent down over her. Placing her hand behind her daughter's back, she helped her into a sitting position. "You're in St Mungo's and it's been two days since the battle, dear. There have been a couple of scary moments but you're going to be okay now," she said confidently as a faint smile returned to her face. "Can you move?"_

_Irately she tried to push herself further up in the bed into a sitting position. She was trying hopelessly to get herself into a position to shout at them, but it was to no avail. Her arms might as well have been glued to the bed for as much movement as she was getting out of them. She screwed up her face as she let out a couple of deep breaths in sheer concentration. Firmly, she focused on just her hands and her eyes welled with frustrated and pained tears in her unsuccessful attempts to lift herself upwards._

"_It's okay, dear," her mother's voice shook as she moved the strands of bright red hair out of her only daughter's eyes. "The Healers said it might take a few days before you start to regain strength in your limbs."_

"_No, it's not," she muttered stubbornly as she met her father's brown eyes through the mist that had filled her own. "Where's Harry?"_

_The tips of Arthur Weasley's ears had gone red as he took her limp hand. "He's missing."_

_Her brain was spinning as she tried to ignore the thuds of pain her mind was inflicting on her weak body and focus on her father's words. "What do you mean he's missing?"_

"_No one has seen him since he left Hogwarts two days ago," Arthur explained to her slowly, his voice soft and controlled. "Just after the curse hit you there was a blinding green light from the old Riddle house in Little Hangleton. The next thing anyone knew was that the Death Eaters were fleeing and both Harry and You-Know-Who were missing. Neither of them has been seen since."_

_It took a couple of minutes to grasp what her dad was trying to tell her. _

_Harry couldn't be missing. He had just proposed to her; promised her that he would come back; said that they would be starting a new life together. They should be celebrating. He had to be around somewhere, he just couldn't be missing. She intended to hold him to each of those promises and she couldn't do that if he was missing._

"_He can't be missing," she whispered._

_Tear-stained brown eyes met her own and she looked up at one of her oldest friends. "There's a Ministry task force on it, Gin," Hermione explained, her whispered words carrying. "They can't find anything, there are no bodies or anything to work from. Not a wand, a wallet, a photo, anything. And with that blast, people have not only lost their houses but their minds. We're talking about thousands of people who can't remember a thing about themselves."_

"_But that doesn't mean anything. Harry hates the Ministry; he's not going to talk to them." She glared at two thirds of the infamous trio. "But he will for the pair of you. What the hell are you two doing here? You're his best friends, why aren't you out there looking for him, right now?"_

_Ron looked down at his feet and she could see the tips of his ears glow red, just as her father's had done. Her brother avoided her gaze as he spoke. "We needed to know how you were. Make sure that you were okay."_

"_I'm fine," she growled through gritted teeth, trying to keep her temper in check._

"_Ginny," her mother offered in warning tones. "You should be resting."_

"_What! I'm lying here, I'm not moving, I'm resting." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I'm fine, but Harry's not. You should be finding him instead of sitting here doing nothing."_

"_I know this has come as a shock, but there is no need to take it out on the people who love you." Her mother's voice had the harsh qualities in it that she had heard so many times before. "We are not giving up on finding Harry but don't you think for one minute, young lady, that you are the only one who loves him and cares what happens."_

_She lowered her eyes, slightly taken aback and a little ashamed by her mother's words. "I need Harry, he can't be missing. I can't survive without him."_

"_Don't you dare talk like that, young lady. We will all do our best to find Harry, but I will not have you giving up without him. Mark my words, no daughter of mine will spend any of her life moping around, especially when she should be feeling lucky to be alive."_

"_I don't want to be here without him," Ginny muttered._

"_I'll pretend that I didn't hear that," Molly Weasley said sternly as she offered a small nod to her husband. "I think we need to leave you to get some rest and perspective."_

And that's how things had ended, Harry was missing and she was in St Mungo's. No one across the Wizarding world had been willing to declare the great Harry Potter and their saviour dead. To this day, instead of giving some level of clarity to the situation, Harry had retained the status of missing-in-action.

Slowly, as time passed, many people had given up any hope that their hero could still be alive out there somewhere. Six months after the battle and just before Christmas, the Ministry hunt for Harry had ended officially. A year on and many in the Wizarding world had moved on and had forgotten their hero, returning to their normal lives; forgotten that if it hadn't been for Harry Potter, they would not have been living the life that they were.

Ginny herself had spent five weeks in St Mungo's recovering from her shattered bones and the infections that they had caused. Her stay was prolonged by her state of depression and reluctance to listen to her family, friends and the St Mungo's Healers.

Without Harry in the world, everything seemed so pointless. She could have learnt to deal with everything if he had walked away from her. She had had six years of training for that. And she guessed she could have learnt to deal with everything, if there was some level of proof or evidence that Harry had died. But the state of unknowing she was lying in was cutting her up.

Ten months had followed as she finished her education at Hogwarts under the watchful eye at all times of former Order of the Phoenix members. As her NEWT results last month had shown, dropping at least a grade in each subject, she had struggled to muster any enthusiasm for anything. Instead her mind kept focusing in what could have been and on those final few moments with Harry. She wished that she had changed her words; done something that would have made sure he came back to her.

"Ginny," her mum said again, breaking through her thoughts and bringing her back to the present day. "You were dreaming about Harry."

She looked up and met her mum's blue eyes for the first time. "He's still out there, Mum."

"Maybe, dear," she replied in an appeasing tone of voice, unwilling to fight her daughter on this issue, "but if he has been gone this long, we can't just expect him to walk through the door."

"But there are still millions of people scattered all over the country without homes and even more people who have lost their memories due to that night." She paused for the briefest of moments as she allowed herself a couple of seconds of hope. "I just know that Harry is one of them."

"I know, but if you just focus on that, you'll drive yourself crazy," She said gently as she pulled her daughter into a hug and held firmly onto her, whispering in her ear. "We'll never forget Harry, but I'm just so glad that we didn't lose you as well. I thank Merlin for that every single day. If Neville hadn't found you, I dread to think what would have happened." Slowly she released her. "Now come downstairs, get some breakfast. Harry would not want you wasting away."

Ginny nodded. "I'll be down in a minute."

Her mum tipped her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Ginny."

"Me too, Mum."

She watched her mum rise to her feet and offer her a small, slightly forced smile as Mrs Weasley pushed the door wide open. "I'm putting the kettle on now, so don't be too long."

Within the next five minutes, she forced herself out of bed and got changed. She quickly and without much thought pulled on an old pair of faded, ripped blue jeans and a Chudley Cannons t-shirt four sizes too big as it had used to belong to Fred. As with any clothes that had been handed down from any of her brothers, it was very unflattering on a female figure as well as making her look like a twelve year old. However, there was no one left to make any sort of an effort for.

As she scraped her hair back into a ponytail, she studied her face. There were red marks on the top of her cheeks and large bags now encased her eyes. These marks had added years to her young face and she was beginning not to remember a time when they had not been there.

The next couple of hours passed in the garden of The Burrow with the day's Daily Prophet. Over a year after the battle the Daily Prophet still featured articles of the aftermath only this time they were crammed into corners instead of being front page news. Rereading the articles of the refugee camps and the adverts, it did not take her long to make up her mind.

_WE NEED YOUR HELP!_

_APPEAL BY THE BRITISH WIZARDING RED CROSS._

_In a time of recovery, we turn to a belief in what is right. The atrocities of the last five years have left the country in crisis. Half a million Witches and Wizards are still homeless and living in our camps. In this time, every volunteer counts, when we are desperate for your help._

_We have a huge range of opportunities available. Whether you want to learn new skills, meet new people or simply use your time to do something worthwhile, there is something to suit everyone._

_The British Wizarding Red Cross relies on the support of over 35,000 dedicated Witches and Wizards, who are willing to give their time to run our camps, services and raise funds for our work._

_Our volunteers work in every community in the United Kingdom, responding to emergencies, helping vulnerable people, helping the country recover from the war with You-Know-Who, running our shops and giving first aid training. They are what makes us a truly local – as well as global – organisation._

_By becoming a volunteer, you will be joining the largest humanitarian movement in the Wizarding world._

They were crying out for volunteers to help across the country and as if fate had demanded it, the camp in the north of England had been placed in an old Muggle mining village in the County Durham. The fact that the pit had closed in the 1980s and hardly any Muggles lived there now as well as it being less than fifty miles from Little Hangleton made it the ideal location. It was so near to the last place that Harry had ever been seen.

She waited until she heard the hustle and bustle inside the house before she even thought about moving from the shade of the tree in which she spent most of her days. Her mum would think that she had made a rash decision based on a year's depression instead of rational thinking and she was well aware there was more than a slight element of truth to that statement. Her seventh year at Hogwarts had provided some kind of focus that had kept her going despite her misery but since doing nothing while being at home, her sense of despair had increased.

She just needed to do this.

As the noise rose in her family home, so did she. Ginny walked past the old trees that lined the walls of The Burrow garden, and the large pond into which Harry had thrown her while she was still wearing her bridesmaid dress, just two summers ago after she had spent the afternoon teasing him, much to her mother's and Fleur's despair and to everyone else's amusement. The last afternoon they had had together before the Horcrux hunt had really begun.

The closer she got to the house, the louder her parents' voices became. She paused and listened to what they were saying. She needed some idea of what kind of mood they were in, in order to gauge how to approach this.

"She's getting worse again, Arthur," her mother explained in an anxious voice. "I don't know what she's dreaming of, but she woke up in a sweat, screaming again. Just like when St Mungo's wanted to take her in for monitoring."

"I thought Minerva had said that all that had stopped."

"But she's back home now, Arthur, with nothing to think about other than Harry." The noise of the kettle hooting gave the conversation a slight pause and made Ginny's heart flutter. "She's sending herself crazy with guilt by being determined that he's still alive."

"He can't possibly be, even if we don't want to think about it." Her dad's voice shook unnaturally as he spoke. "Even Remus agrees with that, if not with other things."

"I know, but how do we explain that to Ginny? They loved each other; we can't devalue how they felt for each other. It's only natural for her not to give up on him. Yet while she's pinning her hopes solely on Harry being alive somewhere, she's not moving on. It's not healthy."

"We'll we need to give her something to do then. Despite everything, her NEWT results were still good, better than we expected, if still not what they should have been compared to her OWLs. While she was doing them they gave her somewhere to channel her energy, the dreams stopped and owls from St Mungo's asking to bring her in for observation stopped. Maybe I could talk to someone at the Ministry; pull a few strings to get her something."

"She hates the Ministry."

"Well then we'll just have to think of something else. What about Gringotts?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Fred's voice from behind her said, making her jump.

She silently cursed herself. She had grown up with Fred and George and should have known better than to be caught by them sneaking up on her, especially when she had been applying their methods to listen to her parents. The last thing she was going to do was to let her older brothers see where they had just got her.

"Nothing," she muttered as she placed her hand on the door to push it open.

Just as she was about to enter the kitchen, George held her back by holding her shoulder. "Why is it, dear little sister, that we don't believe you?"

"Do you want to tell your favourite brothers what you were really doing and who you were ear wigging?" Fred continued his brother's trail of thought.

She glared at the pair of them as she struggled to keep her temper in check. "Get off me before I hex you."

The last thing that she wanted was interference from these prats. Although she had been relieved that they had not treated her differently since that night, she did not want them to get in her way. She shrugged George's arm off her shoulder and sent him a glare as she walked straight past the pair of them.

The kitchen fell unnaturally quiet as soon as she entered the room. Her parents' hushed discussion came to an instant halt. The silence gave The Burrow an unnatural air. The Weasley family home was made for noise and something felt terribly wrong when it was quiet.

"Ginny," her mother said with such false enthusiasm, that she would have known they were talking about her even if they hadn't been listening at the door.

She made a feeble attempt to return her mum's smile as she muttered, "Hi."

"How has your day been?" her mum continued in a forced cheerful voice.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."

"And did you find anything in the Prophet? A job? Anything to interest you, dear?"

"No," she lied convincingly.

"Do you want me to ask around at work?"

"No, it's okay, Dad," she said as she looked up at him and caught a glint of desperation in his brown eyes. Guilt flooded through her body, causing her to look towards the floor again. "I'll sort something out soon, I promise but right now, I'm going to head upstairs and let the rest of you get back to talking about me."

She was not ready to reveal everything to them yet. If they were this worried about her while she was still under their roof, they would go into a state of panic when she told them she was leaving for a refugee camp. She had a feeling that her mum would want her under her roof for a long time to come, especially after what had happened in the last couple of years. Everything needed to be in place for her to approach this the right way and gain their support.

The following week passed relatively quickly as she found lots of little things to occupy her mind for the first time in three months. She was amazed how easily things fell into place as she found the organisation very willing to take her. She had borrowed Errol on her way up to her room that night, sending a letter that expressed her interest. Before she had fallen asleep, she had received a hastily scribbled note, inviting her for an informal chat at eight o'clock the following morning. The organisation had claimed the speedy reply was because they always needed volunteers. While she knew that this was true, she thought that there was another reason her application was being rushed through the red tape.

Harry Potter's girlfriend working for them was bound to create the attention that they were crying for. This would lead to more newspaper columns, donations and volunteers, maybe even pushing the issue back onto the front pages.

She was going to be a publishing tool, but she hardly cared. She knew that she would be doing what Harry had died doing and in some strange, weird way, she'd be honouring his life and easing her guilt. Only after Harry's new world had been fully achieved and people where back in their homes, then maybe, just maybe she would be able to rest.

Before Ginny knew it, it was Sunday and the day prior to when she was due to leave The Burrow. The swift nature of the week had meant that she had hardly had a chance to talk to her parents about her plans, not that she had been that disappointed about that. The week instead had been filled with meetings, most of them with the eccentric and enthusiastic leader of the northern camp, Liam Coughlan, who had fast tracked her application. Coughlan had shown her the paperwork and the hidden statistics of the problems that the country was still facing, saying that 'one person is a tragedy, a thousand people are a statistic'. He explained that the camp had been set up in order to act as a stop gap while they slowly relocated people. While the camps were far from perfect, they offered food, shelter and support to those who needed it.

As well as the meetings, she had been averaging twelve hours of training sessions a day, leaving the house at half past seven and not returning until half past seven in the evening. The days where not only long but intensive as they ran her through a month's training in a week, giving her just enough knowledge so that she would know the basics on arrival. Coughlan had told her that she would have to learn the rest on the job, as if they wanted to keep this away from the media at the moment. They could not count on more than a week, before the world's press found out their plans.

The plans had not gone as unnoticed at home as she had wanted. There had been increased mutterings about her Disapparating from The Burrow and not returning until late at night. Exhausted, she would disappear upstairs without a word to anyone. Her mum seemed torn between the fact that her daughter was finally leaving the house instead of moping around all day and the fact she knew nothing of what she was doing. Ron had been the least subtle in his approaches to her. He had tried to collar her on Wednesday to get her to explain her actions but had found himself as successful as he had been at trying to stop her from chasing Horcruxes.

Unlike the rest of the week, Sunday seemed to drag as she kept putting off the inevitable of talking to her parents. She knew if this was not done well, it would end up just turning into yet another row between herself and her mother. Sometimes her mum, through wishing to love and protect her, proceeded to treat her like a twelve year old who didn't know what she was doing. Ginny would hear the tone of voice, resent it and an argument would begin. The last thing she wanted to do was to leave on an argument.

At around four o'clock she pushed open the door to the kitchen. Her mum was at the sink using her wand to peel a variety of vegetables for the compulsory family dinner in a couple of hours, a meal you would not miss if you valued your life.

"Mum," she said softly in a would-be-confident voice.

"Yes, dear."

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Is this the reason why you have been avoiding me all week?" Mrs Weasley said automatically as she put her wand down. She turned to look at Ginny eagerly as if it was a cure for which she had been waiting months. "Come and sit down, Ginny."

It felt like something was automatically pulling her closer to her mum. It was almost as if her mum had raised her wand and shot a string out of it that captured Ginny's body and pulled it over to her mum. "Okay," she said nervously as she avoided her mum's gaze, taking the seat opposite Mrs Weasley at the kitchen table. "Well, the reason why, I've hardly been around this week is because I've got a job."

"That's wonderful news." A smile instantly appeared on the aged face of Mrs Weasley, which reflected into her voice. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Well, it's not really a paying job, it's volunteer work."

"There's nothing wrong with that; having all the money in the world won't necessarily make you happy." She reached across and took Ginny's hand. "I hope if there's one thing I've taught my children, it's that."

"I know," Ginny replied softly as she offered a small smile.

Molly gave her daughter's hand a gentle squeeze. "So where is it? When are you starting?"

"Tomorrow," Ginny explained taking her hand away, "It's at the refugee camp near Little Hangleton."

Her mother studied her face. "Are you sure about this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she spat back quickly. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's honest work, it's helping the after-effects of the mess that this war created. They're desperate for help, Mum." She paused briefly as she added an element of reason to her argument. "It just feels like the right thing to do, especially when you compare it to moping around here."

"That's not what I meant, dear," she said softly tipping her daughter's head upwards so she could look her directly in the eyes. "I know it's the right thing to do for some people and if you are doing this for the right reason, I'll support you all the way, but you're not sure are you? Is this about Harry?"

She cast her eyes downwards. "No."

"Don't lie to me. I have always known when one of my children isn't telling me the truth over something important." She paused and her voice softened. "I know that you're still dreaming about him."

Instantly she stood up as her temper started to flare inside her. "So what if I am? What's wrong with having a few dreams? They're all I have left!"

"Nothing at all," her mum said getting to her feet and taking Ginny by the arm to stop her leaving,. "but you can't waste your life away. If doing this is a way to wallow in Harry's memory then it's not going to help you nor the people in that camp." She paused, to add weight to her words. "You're not ready."

"Mum, no one knows what went on between us. That time is mine," Ginny replied as she pulled away. "I think it's right to do this and I'm not your little girl anymore, Mum. I'm an adult and I've seen more than most would wish to. The contract's signed, I'm leaving, and I need to pack tonight."


	3. Chapter Two

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Chapter Two: Memories

Rubbing his eyes, the reds and greens, which had filled his dreams, started to disappear from his mind. Every night brought the same dream as if it was teasing him with his old life, a life that he was desperate to remember. Yet it had been thirteen months since he had awakened in a Wizarding Red Cross hospital without his memory. At first, he couldn't even remember the simple fact that he was a Wizard, and he'd had the world explained to him.

He had pieced together small parts of information from a mixture of old newspapers, magazines and what he had been told by Healers. He was found with a broken wand in the same area that the final confrontation had taken place with You-Know-Who. Therefore, it seemed to make sense that he must have been part of an organisation called the Order of the Phoenix but that hardly helped things, as many people of around his age had been part of the organisation through going to Hogwarts school.

After he had been released from the hospital, he had spent the first month solely scanning the newspaper. Hardly eating, he focused all his energy on reading the descriptions of missing Wizards, only to find that there were hundreds of names listed; names including those who had fought in the battle, and even more who were dragged into the after effects with the blast. It was almost as if it had wiped a whole region of their minds. Trying to find an identity, with nothing to go on, was not only devastating when you hit endless rejections, but was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

His mind seemed to enjoy playing tricks with him. Pieces of information in his dreams hinted at his past life; he knew that they were the key in bringing back his memory. He saw glimpses of the final moments before his life changed and his memory disappeared. Yet his visions were blurred, and masked with reds and greens.

_A girl's voice was calling after him. She sounded frantic and worried. He felt himself smile at her, despite the frenzied screams and the flashes of light around them. Something about her made all his worries go away. It was almost as if the world would stop if they were holding onto each other. He moved closer through the blurs and saw her amazing red hair through the multicoloured mist that was encircling the area. He had a sudden urge to rush over, but he kept his distance. He could feel his heart pounding, as he got closer. He needed to get her away and make sure she was safe._

_"You need to go, it's close." He told her, refusing to turn around and look at her._

_"I can't leave you here." She explained stubbornly. "You're not facing him alone."_

_He let out a small sigh, he didn't have time for an argument and even if he did, he had a feeling she wouldn't let him win this one. "Well, will you at least promise me you'll stay out the way? This is not just your fight, and I'm not going to let you die because of him."_

_"Okay, then," she replied reluctantly, "but if anything happens, I'm coming after you."_

_He smiled, "I'll see you in a bit then."_

_"Yeah, you'd better get that ring ready."_

_He had raised his wand and turned to face a dark robed figure. Muttering something he couldn't make out, a flash of light left his wand. Milliseconds later, a flash of green light filled the area. A pain filled his head as he fell to the floor, whispering words into the air; their meaning escaping him. Then everything suddenly went black, his dreams ended as he always woke up at that point._

Dismissing the frustrations of the night's taunts, he got out of the uncomfortable camp bed and rolled up his sleeping bag. Folding the bed and placing it in a neat corner of the empty tent, he looked around. He had overslept, as the tent was empty of the normal scenes of chaos in the mornings. He pulled on a red t-shirt, a tattered pair of jeans, and a pair of ripped trainers. He grabbed his wash bag and studied his simple belongings.

He wanted more than this. There had to be something deep down in his memories that was locked and waiting to get out.

As he stood at the sink, he threw ice cool water over his mutilatedface. Three large scars adorned his face; two of them started at his hairline and ripped through his now useless right eye. He ran his fingers over the deep cut and his eye. He was certainly no oil painting now, scarred for life. It was no wonder he was still missing. No matter how many spells the camp Healer-in-Chief had tried and how many potions she had given him, the war wounds seemed to be fixed upon his face.

Well, things didn't change by wishing them away, he thought. I might as well get on with things.

He collected his things and left them with the rest of his possessions. Leaving the empty tent, he walked through the camp.

The camp was filled with around a hundred winter tents or so. These were more sustainable than the summer ones they used, made of a heavier material to withstand the poor weather conditions. These huge replacement homes were far from the average tent and contained a stove and a chimney. The green mountains, as the tents were frequently called, could hold fifteen people, and due to their vast size, covered the landscape for as far as the eye could see. They were six feet in depth, and led a clear pathway to the storage, meeting, repair and food tents.

Six months ago, he had made the decision to stop torturing himself and do something with his life. It had taken only a matter of moments to make up his mind about becoming a refugee volunteer. As well as providing a few perks, such as extra food, it had given him something to focus on. Perhaps, more importantly, it felt right to be helping people, as if it was something that he had been born to do.

The camp was normally a subdued place at this time in the morning, but today, there was a certain buzz to it. Most mornings saw people slowly wandering out of the tents at their leisure. No one was putting the extra effort into things anymore; after a year without homes and memories, many seemed to have given up hope. Another day in camp was hardly something to alert the Daily Prophet about; it was more likely to be forgotten into the backdrop of things. Today, however, people seemed to be feeding off the excited air. The whole place was on the verge of exploding and with each passing step, it grew.

It seemed like they all knew something that he didn't. In fact, he was sure that they all knew something he didn't.

He scanned the crowd, looking for someone he might know. He hated being left in the dark over things. Within seconds, his eyes found a flash of the red volunteers' t-shirt with dark brown - almost black - hair whipping against it. Emerging from one of the storage tents, with a frown etched upon her face, was his closest friend.

Staring at her for a few seconds, his curiosity ceased. He could not help but be captivated by her beauty. She had long, straight brown hair that flowed down her back and freckles that were scattered over her olive skin. Her tanned glow was the result of growing up on the continent. Despite her petite frame, there was no doubt of her strength.

"Frankie!"

"Hey Jack," her voice called back at him, as she forced a smile to grace her lips and made her way over. "So you ready to get started, lightweight?"

"You bet," he replied, meeting her smile, as his green eyes locked in with her brown ones, "but what's going on here?"

"I'll explain, later," she muttered, glaring at a couple of people.

Frankie, or Francesca McGovern if you were skilled with your wand, was the life and the soul of the camp. Everyone seemed to know who she was and what she was doing at that moment in time. She was probably too popular for her own good, in his humble opinion; but her popularity never went to her head. In fact, she was one of the most down - to - earth people around, willing to do whatever anyone needed from her without too many complaints. These were just a few of the qualities she possessed that made her one of his friends and if he was completely honest with himself, he was thinking about taking things further than friendship.

She was his first port of call when he needed to talk about anything. She spent hours of her limited free time with him, attempting to help him unsuccessfully piece parts of his memory back together. She also had an incredible sense of humour, with a smile that could not only light up her face but also the entire room; it lifted him during these fruitless hours. Her brown eyes twinkled with a mischievous intelligence; it was easy to tell why she was so popular.

But how could he even consider starting a relationship with someone, when he didn't even know himself? He owed her so much, and he was not going to damage a friendship for a few moments of passion. For Merlin's sake, he even owed her his name. She was, quite simply, his rock.

To this day, he still could not remember his name. In order to stop his levels of frustration, she had suggested that he rename himself. A couple of hours of laughter had passed, as names were tossed into the air and rejected. That was until Frankie mentioned Jack; a name that had been associated with him around the camp. He was known as the 'Jack of all trades', willing to muck in with everything and anything.

That night was the best one he could remember, despite the fact that he had lost a fortune to her in a poker match. He had never enjoyed himself so much before, and he laughed so much that his sides hurt but despite all that, his heart yearned for something else, something more. It was almost as if that night, she had reminded him of a friend he had forgotten. It felt like a chunk of his heart was missing.

A cry drew him out of his thoughts, as her angry call followed a small boy. The boy was running away, leaving Frankie on the floor, picking up several papers that she had dropped.

"You know, you're not kidding anyone," he said, as he forced himself back to reality, looking at her reddening face.

"Eh?"

"Come on, Frankie, spill; what's your problem today?" he asked, as he offered her his hand to help her back to her feet. "You'll feel better after you've ranted over it."

There were frequently problems in refugee camps and this one was no different. Often these problems had one very simple route to it, the amount of food or more importantly the lack of it. Last week, one of the camp volunteers had been found guilty of giving away her food to refugees, leaving her body too weak to do anything helpful. Coughlan had exploded. No matter how good and honourable her intentions may have been in feeding young children, it had resulted in her spending a night in hospital, leaving the camp understaffed. His words, "We are not running a camp for the sick middle class volunteers," were still ringing in many ears.

"It's not really a problem. I mean, it's not like the world is going to stand still."

"Well, the world rarely comes to a standstill," he offered hopefully.

"It's more of an annoyance," she continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "I mean shouldn't we be doing our jobs instead of trying to become a media darling? What does it matter how much press coverage something gets if it stops us doing the simple things right! There's no point in doing the spectacular if you can't get the simple things right."

He studied her face, trying to read her, but her creased forehead and folded arms did not show the cause of the anger. While her face showed frustration and annoyance, her real emotions remained buried behind the mask she had created for the world to see. Frankie was not normally one to moan over things; big or small. It was one of the things he liked most about her. Instead of sulking over something, she would find a solution to it.

_Well, there was no use crying over spilt potion._

You might as well just get on with things. If you were presented with a problem, you just worked around it. No matter how big a problem, how hard the solution was or how creative that you had to be to overcome it, there was always an answer to a problem if you stopped frowning long enough and got on with things.

_Anything's possible as long as you've got enough nerve._

Frankie had nerve by the bucket load and a very creative imagination to turn any problem around. She was hardly someone who would get annoyed over things. In fact she had a remarkably high tolerance level. In fact as far as he could remember, he had never seen her annoyed.

He guessed that came from being sent away to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, where her mum and aunts had gone to school. This had kept her a safe distance from any possible threats that You-Know-Who might have caused, but meant she had completed her education in French instead of her mother tongue of English.

He offered her a small smile. "You do know I'm going to need more information, if I'm going to help you out. I can't do anything to help you if you don't tell me the problem."

"Alright, well we've got a new volunteer coming in today. She's quite, no-- **_very_**, famous. So they are pulling out all the stops today, instead of letting us do our jobs." Her frown grew, and her voice became tenser with every word she spoke.

"And you know, it's just a huge publicity stunt. You just know she's going to be unprepared for this, a little princess like all the other phoney celebrities are. Meaning ultimately, our workload, my workload, will be doubled as we cover her slack."

"Is she anyone I'd know?" he joked, trying to get her face to relax.

"Jack!" she said, playfully hitting his arm. Her frown dropped a little bit. "Don't try to make me smile. I'm determined to stay annoyed today, for the whole day, in protest."

"But I happen to like your smile," he teased.

She let out a large breath, and a small, forced smile graced her face. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he replied with a small grin. "So, on the risk of you reaching for your wand, what's she famous for?"

"She was his girlfriend," came her blunt reply.

"Oh," his mouth dropped open a little.

He had heard the stories about the Boy Who Lived, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord and his girlfriend. Every time he heard of their story, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the pair. The young man had given his life to help the wizarding world and to stop a terrifying dictatorship. Then, when he had earned the right to enjoy his life, it all had ended. No matter what the girl was like and whether she was worth the affection or not, you couldn't help feeling sorry for them.

It was one thing to put your life on hold, knowing that you'd get it back in time; but it was another thing to lose everything completely, while doing just that.

Everyone in the whole world got their lives back together, apart from two people who, perhaps, deserved it most. It was a tragic love story fitting for any generation. A young couple that had sacrificed their own happiness to do the right thing, and thereby, limiting the time they had together.

It was no wonder the events after the war still made the press. And despite the trashy content of Rita Skeeter's articles, he felt compelled to read them as if the tacky reporter could offer some answers. Yet one thing stayed constant amongst the tasteless articles; the pair of them had laid aside their own happiness.

_"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."_

"Yeah," she interrupted his thoughts and fledgling memories. "And if everything written in the Daily Prophet is true, she's completely insane and belongs in a ward at St Mungo's; not working in a refugee camp. She needs to be getting the help, instead of giving it out."

"I guess it's lucky then that we don't believe everything in the Prophet," he replied, trying to get back the elusive memory.

"Yeah, but they do sometimes report the truth," she offered. "There has to be a reason why they are saying these things."

"To sell papers, that's why; they're sensationalist. You don't have to read many issues to know that," he replied curtly. "You know as well as I do that they're going to sell far more papers calling her insane and keeping him on the front page, than using the thickness of cauldrons as their headline."

"I guess," she admitted with a small shrug. "Anyone who fought in that battle must not be scared of getting their hands dirty."

"So, it might not be that bad," he suggested, as he watched her tense body starting to relax.

"I guess so," she placed her hand on his left cheek, as she stood on her tiptoes and placed a small kiss on his right one. "You really are sweet, you know. You know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

He shrugged as she returned to her normal height. "What else are friends for?"

"We're more than friends, you know that, right?"

He offered her a broad grin, "I should hope so too; I don't offer my last chocolate frogs to just anyone."

"I feel so honoured." Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint, as she squeezed his hand and offered him an impish grin. "So do you want to check her out, and see what all the fuss is about?" She glanced over her shoulder at the crowd of people. "You never know, it might just help jog some of those memories. I mean if you went to Hogwarts, you must have been there at the same time as her."

"Well, there's nothing to lose."

He touched his cheek as he followed after her. The memories would come back later, and so he decided that he might as well focus on the future, leaving the past behind. If that particular memory was the one that would be the trigger to get his memory back, then that would be brilliant, but he didn't want to pin all his hopes on it. His only problem left was that inter-camp relationships, although not completely unheard of, were very much disapproved of as they were deemed to compromise people's jobs as they split their focus.

He stopped his eyes from following her bum as she entered the meeting tent; it was forbidden and plus, she didn't think of him in that way.

As he entered the tent, he realised that the press call had already begun. The place was packed with hardly enough space to breath, let alone move. He forcibly shifted around to the back to try and get a better view; one that was not obstructed by a mass of heads. Managing to achieve a half decent view, he reached his hand over to Frankie and pulled her over towards him.

"Which one is she?" he asked, as he looked at the front table that had been filled with a dozen people, all looking very important.

"The redhead."

A young girl with vibrant red hair sat in the middle of a group of men, who were dressed in corporate Red Cross uniforms. She looked like a fragile little girl, but there was a certain power that radiated from her. Years had been added to her young face with deep bags under her eyes and lines that creased her forehead. Her arms were folded and she had a very distant air about her, as if she was unwilling to let people hurt her or feed her to the press that dogged her existence. She looked like she was already bored and frustrated by the day's events, wanting the formalities to end and the press to leave her alone. Who could blame her when they slaughtered her on a daily basis?

The thing that caught his attention, though, was her soulful, deep, brown eyes. They looked like they had seen a lifetime filled with misery. Yet they were the most captivating things he had ever seen.

There was a small growl in his stomach, and it jerked. There was no doubt that she was very pretty and something within him felt very attached to her. Despite everything that must have happened to her, she looked incredible. The small t-shirt and jeans she was wearing highlighted her petite figure and amazing curves. An outfit that would look drab on many others looked fantastic on her. Her brilliant mane of red hair was offset by gold as the sun hit it and he had to force himself not to walk over and run his fingers through her hair. It was ridiculous to want to hug a girl and whisper that everything would be okay to someone whom he had never met before.

"Closeyour mouth and stop drooling," Frankie hissed as she hit his arm.

"Sorry," he muttered. But he wasn't sorry in the slightest, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. It was not just her beauty that was pulling him towards her. Had it been just lust, his heart wouldn't have skipped a beat; there was something much more deep-rooted than that.

"Look," Ginny said in a tense tone, as her red hair crackled with energy. Her hand twitching towards a wand, she appeared to be desperately trying to keep her temper in check. He would not want to face her in a battle; she looked like she could more than hold her own.

"I know you're all fascinated with the state of my mind, but I can assure you that I am as sane as I have ever been. This camp is not about me or what I have done in the past. It makes no difference who my boyfriend is or was, and whether he is still out there somewhere." She gave the briefest pause before she continued, glaring at a couple of reporters in the front row. Her eyes stayed fixed on a blond haired witch with jewelled glasses.

"I'm just one of many people who want to do the right thing, and I shouldn't be treated any differently than anyone else here. In fact, the volunteers should be given more respect as they have being doing it longer." She explained as she gestured to a number of people in the crowd wearing red t-shirts. "So if you lot want a story, you should be following these volunteers around, and revealing the amazing jobs that they are doing by trying to help people recover their lives, not focusing on me and how long it will take me to crack. They are the real heroes in this world, and I just want to play my part and help out."

Coughlan coughed, looking clearly taken aback. He had obviously not expected the spitfire attitude from his publicity toy. "I think that will be all." He got to his feet and indicated to the teenager to do the same. "Miss Weasley?"

_She's been talking about you all summer._

"That was actually quite impressive. Maybe she'll last a month," Frankie muttered reluctantly, a new frown appearing across her brow. "What do you think?"

He pulled his eyes away from the girl at the front as she walked out the tent, her long hair flowing behind her. He blinked in order to stop him from following her. There was so much going on in her life; she hardly needed to be followed around by him especially when she still appeared to be in love. A wizard with no identity could hardly compete with The-Boy-Who- Lived and besides, he knew nothing about her, unlike Frankie, his best friend.

"She's pretty," he said tactfully, as he turned his head back to looking at his friend. "Not a patch on you though."

"You're easily pleased."

He turned his head as he watched the eccentric leader of the camp leading her out of the tent with a scowl on his face. She glanced over her shoulder and for the briefest of seconds, he was sure his eyes meet hers. As he stared into those brilliant bright brown eyes, he felt his heart pounding against his ribcage.

There was something about her, something so fiery and passionate, qualities that were there for everyone to see. But it wasn't just that, there was something there that he couldn't explain and he could hardly wait to find out what that something was.

Frankie whacked him on the back of his head, "Come on, let's get away from the press and get on with our work."

"Sure," he muttered as he watched Ginny Weasley walking away, her long red hair dancing behind her as she moved.


	4. Chapter Three

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Chapter Three: Lonely

The tent was brimming with so many people that there was hardly any room to breathe. Witches and wizards, from all over the world, had gathered together in hopes of receiving any information about Harry Potter. It had been over a year since he had gone missing and the press was still like piranhas, looking for whatever scrap of information they could dig up on The-Boy-Who-Defeated-The Dark-Lord. Their favourite target to extract these details was a young witch, who was his girlfriend when he had disappeared. The fact that she was opening herself up for questions was too good of an opportunity to miss.

Frowning at her audience, Ginny was getting tired of their questions, especially those pertaining to her mental state. All they wanted was a piece of meat and she refused to give it to them. If she ever met the Healer who had 'accidentally' released her file to the press, she would hex him into next year. Ever since that day, the press had been buzzing around her, waiting for her to crack so they could get their next big news story.

She hadn't realised until today how desperate they had become for a story, knowing that they circulated the story every few weeks. She had never witnessed the press at their worse ever since her mum threatened every reporter and came near The Burrow. Not that she should have been surprised after the articles about Harry written by Rita Skeeter during her third year at Hogwarts.

The reporters had been relentless for the last hour. Only the first five minutes had been devoted to questions about the workings of the Wizarding Red Cross. The rest were her opinions of the comments made by the same Healer, who released her file and her thoughts on Harry.

She let out a small sigh as the next round of questions started. She'd had enough of this.

"Look," her voice was tense as she tried to control her temper that was on the verge of exploding. Her hand already was twitching towards her wand in a natural defence to their words so she took a long deep breath to try to regain her composure.

"I know you're all fascinated with the state of my mind, but I can assure you that I am as sane as I have ever been. This camp is not about me or what I have done in the past. It makes no difference who my boyfriend is or was, and whether he is still out there somewhere." Her mouth dried up as she gave the briefest of pauses, recognising the witch in the front row. Her eyes stayed fixed upon Rita Skeeter as she spoke, hardly believing that she had the nerve to show up after everything she had said and done.

"I'm just one of many people who want to do the right thing, and I shouldn't be treated any differently than anyone else here. In fact, the volunteers should be given more respect as they have been doing it longer." She found herself gesturing to the people at the back, trying to take the attention off her. "So if you lot want a story, you should be following these volunteers around, and revealing the amazing jobs that they are doing trying to help people recover their lives, not focusing on me and how long it will take me to crack. They are the real heroes in this world, and I just want to play my part and help out."

Coughlan's hand fell on her shoulder. His skin was rough and had blisters and scars scattered from the tips of his fingers to the edge of his palm. His hand had the same kind of marks that Charlie's had from five years of working with dragons. Her shoulder gave a little shudder under his weight; there was no doubt that Liam Coughlan was a powerful man.

"I think we had better be off," he told her as he got to his feet, indicating for her to do the same. "Miss Weasley."

Automatically getting to her feet, she shot him an apologetic glance. Ginny had a feeling that Coughlan was not a man to cross, and she didn't want to start off on the wrong foot. She hardly had the energy for the battle that would ensue, but at the same time her anger at the reporters did not stop.

The older man led her out of the tent with a cluster of reporters at her heels. She glanced over her shoulder as she felt a small pull on her arm. Coughlan led her through the camp; people scattered in his presence. There was an aura around him, one of respect but it wasn't just that aura that made her feel slightly nervous; it was the silence that was now filling the thin air.

Growing up with it, she could deal with the noise, but silence had always slightly unnerved her. It just didn't seem natural for someone to stay quiet when they were angry. There was no doubt from the lines that had formed on his face that Coughlan's current feelings were anything but happy. Her mother had always shouted at them whenever they had done or said something inappropriate. Harry hadn't been known for hiding his feelings or frustrations; in fact, he had been very vocal with his anger at times. When Professor McGonagall had lectured her on more than one occasion about her behaviour and conduct, the room had been far from silent.

Coughlan shepherded her through the gateway and into another tent. This one was just smaller than the massive one that had been used for the meeting. However, this had all the hallmarks of being an office; there was a large oak table in the centre, with a mass of papers scattered all over it and two chairs on either side of the desk. Several overflowing filing cabinets filled the space, showing exactly the huge nature of the task. The only thing that detracted from the business-like air was a small camp bed in one corner.

"Please sit," he invited, gesturing to the chair on one side of the desk while taking the other one.

She did as he requested. His eyes were fixed on her, as if he was trying to penetrate her thoughts. Her brown eyes locked with his sparkling blue ones; she was not going to hide away from anyone.

"Well," he started again. He spoke quietly, but there was a powerful energy contained within his voice, showing that he did not need to shout to get his level of authority across. "The press."

"I'm sorry," she uttered automatically.

"Hmm," he replied sceptically, keeping her gaze. "We rarely get press attention, Miss Weasley and when we do get it, we make sure they come back. In short, we do whatever it takes to keep them happy and get favourable accounts. After all, funding is everything, and the best way to get it is through the media coverage."

She bowed her head, breaking the eye contact for the first time. "I'm sorry," she repeated, meaning the words this time. "I guess I was just frustrated."

"Take them out elsewhere, not in my camp then," he told her in stern qualities that reminded her very much of Professor McGonagall. "Not everyone wanted you here. 'Too much baggage' they said, but I believed you could do a job. When I agreed to take you, you assured me that you were okay and could leave those burdens behind you."

"And I will."

Coughlan jotted down a note on a piece of parchment. "Good, then we'll say no more about it." He glanced over her shoulder and signalled to someone by the door. "So, let's get on with work. I'd like you to meet Jerome Campbell."

She turned around to see a tall, dark man in his mid to late twenties standing in the entrance to the tent. He was well built, his body packed with muscles, not the type of man you'd like to cross. In fact, his skinhead and piercing brown eyes reminded Ginny of a dark skinned Victor Krum.

He was dressed simply but even with her current attitude towards men and enjoyment, she could see his many attractive qualities. He had on a pair of knee-length sport shorts, his wand was sticking out of the back pocket, and a long sleeved variety of the same red t-shirt that everyone was wearing.

"Miss Weasley," he said, in a thick cockney accent that made her feel at home amongst the mass of northern voices.

He offered his hand to her, and she took it, feeling his hard palm that was covered in scars and cuts. As she had learnt from Charlie, a hand with contusions showed the trademark signs of someone who had spent the last couple of years working outside.

"It's Ginny."

"Charmed," he replied with a grin. "Jerome."

"Jerome is one of our more popular volunteers," Coughlan explained as Ginny raised her eyebrows., "and one of our rising stars." He continued, as he smacked the younger man on the back. "Since we have placed you in his tent, he's sportingly agreed to show you around."

"It's an honour really, sir."

"Atta boy," Coughlan said, offering a small nod to the volunteer, who smiled back.

"If you're ready," Jerome said, picking up her rucksack from the floor. "I thought we'd dump this at the tent first."

Ginny nodded her approval, as he opened the tent doors onto the masses. She sighed to see that the press had not returned to their holes in the ground yet. Instead, they were hovering around to get another glimpse of her.

One of the advantages of a camp this size was that it provided an escape from the intrusions. It was much harder to stalk a camp packed with people than a small house, and hopefully, once the induction period was over, the novelty passed, and her work started, the paparazzi would disappear.

She shrugged her shoulders and remembered Coughlan's words. Sending the photographers a quick smile, she glanced at Jerome.

"Which way?"

"This way," he replied, placing his hand on her shoulder and smiling quickly into the flashing lights of the camera.

Resisting the urge to stick two fingers up at the reporters, they slipped away. Within minutes, they were lost in crowds of people. Jerome led her through the camp as they weaved through a series of tents. The path they took not only helped confuse her mind even more, but it made sure that all the reporters were lost.

"I'll show you around properly, once they disappear."

"Thanks," she muttered with a small smile.

He grinned back at her, "You know you have a beautiful smile; you should use it more."

"There aren't many things left to smile about."

He shrugged his shoulders, "Then maybe we should find some things," he offered, his smile extending from his lips to his eyes. "Finding a knut, flying a broom, helping someone."

"You sound like my mum," she told him.

The last thing she wanted was another lecture about how she should be feeling. She did not need to see the concerned looks of pity. They were almost as bad as the stories about how she belonged in a ward at St Mungo's.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"It's okay," she replied quickly, before changing the topic. "So, what made you come here?"

"The same as everyone else really. Just trying to sort out the mess we caused," he explained, avoiding her gaze as he pulled open a door to a tent. "We're just through here."

She walked into the tent to find three bunk beds and six trunks in various states of disarray, which took up most of the space. There also was a small kitchen and a bathroom area blocked off to one side of the tent. A couple of seats and a table completed the room, but they were currently occupied by three people playing cards, while listening to a battered radio. The minute she stepped inside the tent, three sets of cards were dropped, and the radio was switched off.

Jerome placed her rucksack down on the floor. "This is Deon Carson." A stringy man with braided black hair and slightly darkened skin in his mid twenties waved over at her.

"Curtis Brunt." His arm moved to direct her to a slightly shorter and stockier man with shoulder length dirty blond hair.

"And finally, last but by no means least, Neve Corr." He pointed to a woman with fair skin and long brown hair that was plaited together.

"Hey," Ginny said, holding her hand up in a wave.

"Hey back at ya," Deon replied. He had a round face with a kind smile that extended to his eyes. "How's your day been?"

"Hectic," she told him.

"Well, that's a trend that's not going to stop as long as you're here," Neve explained, in a soft Irish accent that had almost a dreamlike quality to it. "But before you enter the madhouse, let's at least get you sorted out with a bunk and trunk, so you'll have somewhere to call yours when you get those tiny moments of alone time."

"Thank you," she said so quietly, her voice was almost lost into the air.

"Take the one over me, top bunks are better than the bottom ones," Neve spoke in a motherly tone, pointing at the upper bunk with a small smile. "And the free trunk is the one next to Frankie's at the end. The one in a complete mess with the Weird Sister's stickers on it."

"Where is Frankie?" Jerome called over from the seating area. "She should be here."

"She's with Jack," Deon replied, with a small shrug. "Her boyfriend," he added for Ginny's benefit. "He's one of the camp refugees. Nice bloke; appalling memory."

Ginny sent a confused look over to Neve, who looked the most likely to answer her questions honestly. Granted, she didn't know Coughlan well, but he seemed like a man not to cross. She knew that he took ethics and diplomacy, especially with the press, very seriously and very straightforward. Somehow, she thought that inter-camp relationships were somewhat frowned upon.

"Naturally, they are banned," Neve told her, as she helped Ginny with her trunk. "Relationships, that is." She paused and let out a small sigh. "But if anyone can get away with it, it's Frankie."

"It should be reported, she's spending too much time with him," Jerome said bitterly, glaring at her trunk. "She's exploiting her position."

"Ah, haway," Curtis interrupted in a strong voice. "She's just having a bit of fun, if you ask me. A bit of a crack." He dropped the cards that he had been placing back in their packet and fixed his blue eyes upon Jerome. "Besides, you only want to report her to further your own career."

"That's enough!" Jerome glared back at him. The tent was filled with tensions between the two men that had been brewing over a substantial period of time. Before anything else was said, he turned his attention back to Ginny and forced a smile on his face. "So are you ready for the rest of the tour?"

"Yeah, okay," she said, confidently.

"Let's go then," he said in a business-like tone, already striding over to the door.

"If you need anything, just ask," Neve offered in a hopeful tone, sending a disapproving glance in Jerome's direction. "We all know how it feels to be new, especially in a place as huge and demanding as this."

The rest of the day seemed to fly by, leaving hardly enough time to think. Neve had been right about the place; it was massive and not just in terms of the land. Ginny had seen the list of names of displaced people after being released from St Mungo's, but it was very different to see a list of names and to see all those people in person. There was just so many; more than she ever could have imagined.

To make matters worse, every witch and wizard knew her name. They expected so many things from her, almost as if she had all the answers to their problems, and a flick of her wand could bring their previous lives back. In all honesty, she was beginning to feel doubtful if she could give them the attention and help they needed.

This was going to be a much bigger task than she had dreamed.

Ginny was exhausted by the time dinner had been finished, and there would be another full day of jobs tomorrow. Coughlan had been true to his word; there was no easing into the process here.

Lying on her bed less than half an hour later, her mind started to relax. The feeling of loneliness came flooding back to her and in the dark, she realised that no matter how helpful and supportive people had been, she was here completely alone.

_"Is trouble your middle name or something?"_

_Fifteen-year-old Ginny Weasley looked up from her Charms essay. Her quill resting lazily in her hand, she looked up. She sent her boyfriend a curious look, as she racked her brain for what she could have possibly done this time. Granted, a day never went by without her having a little fun, but with the upcoming OWL exams and a new distraction, in the form of a bespectacled, black haired boy in front of her, she hadn't had time to cause trouble recently._

_She sent him a small smile that extended to her eyes. Shrugging her shoulders, she dropped her quill, causing the parchment to blot. "I actually thought it was yours."_

_"Really?" He shot her a grin that lit up his entire face. "So it was me who dropped stink pellets in Snape's classroom at lunchtime?"_

_Ginny allowed herself a small grin, before adopting a look of shocked surprise, a look that she had used many times before to proclaim her innocence. A smile that usually got her out of bother as the person she had managed to enrage looked for guilty faces instead of her sweet one. It always sent Ron mad when they both were guilty of something and, as their mother cornered them, Ginny would offer a sweet, angelic smile that would see her get out of trouble. _

_She honestly had no intention of dropping stink pellets at the start of her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, but as the hour had progressed, she had gotten_ _increasingly annoyed and frustrated. Snape's teaching style was shocking; he never checked if his pupils understood the lesson or not, leaving them to suffer and then, berating their mistakes. Not only that, but there had never been one class, Potions or Defence Against the Dark Arts, in which he hadn't passed a comment on who she was. These comments had only increased in their vile content since she had started dating Harry._

_The only way she could have stood a chance with him was if she dyed her hair and changed her surname. So, after an hour of loathsome words that escaped the greasy-haired Professor's mouth, all she had to do was pick up a few stink pellets, and he'd gotten off lightly in her book. Especially since she had been wanting to use some of Fred and George's products, but unfortunately, she was still waiting for her next delivery._

_"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said innocently, offering him a sweet smile._

_"You're not fooling anyone," he told her with a grin._

_"But," she said, as if he hadn't interrupted her, "if you find out who did it, do thank them for me."_

_"Oh, I will," he said, making his way across the common room toward the big armchair by the fire, in which she was seated. "Anyone who can send Snape that mad and cancel my lesson with him, deserves high praise, indeed."_

_Harry climbed over the side of the huge, cushy armchair. She shifted forward slightly, as he swung his legs over the armrest. He eased in behind her back as she rested her body against his. She turned around to look at him, her head against his shoulder. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around her waist, kissing her on the top of her forehead._

_She never felt more at home than when she was in Harry's arms. His strong body fitted perfectly against her petite one. Those powerful arms gave her such a warm feeling of protection and all the world's problems disappeared when they were like this. Even their list of troubles seemed to get smaller. It was where she belonged. It was where she wanted to spend the rest of her life._

_He was the best form of comfort and support she had. It was great to just be herself, without any worries, even if they were both aware of the problems they faced._

_"Thank you," he whispered in her ear. "On behalf of every student in Gryffindor, who has ever had that git teaching them." He kissed her neck. "Let's just hope that he doesn't work things out, seeing as you wagged_ _your last lesson."_

_"He won't," she replied confidently, "and you're very welcome."_

_He traced her neckline with his kisses, brushing against her soft skin and sending shivers of excitement up her spine. Gently, their lips met in a soft kiss. He pulled her closer to him, as adrenaline filled her body. Moving her tongue against his lips, she deepened the kiss. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped inside. Slowly, their tongues danced together as she explored his mouth._

_The best kisses were not meant to be rushed, and Harry was a damn good kisser._

_Slowly, he broke the kiss, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."_

"I love you too, Harry," she whispered into the thin night air, before turning on the uncomfortable camp bed. She reached under her pillow and pulled out a worn photograph. There he was, smiling back up at her like he didn't have a care in the world, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen. "I'm not going to give up on you."


	5. Chapter Four

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Chapter Four: Discovery

The day of the press conference had been, to say the least, frantic. Countless people had a stressed aura hovering over them. But the day had brought an excited and hopeful air to life at the camp, lifting even the most pessimistic of people. It had definitely proved a break from the norm and the mundane of the refugee camp.

Yet, all that had long since died away. As the days passed into weeks after the initial euphoria, life had gone back to normal. Aside from the occasional odd reminder, it was almost has if nothing had happened. The days were still long; there were few success stories amongst the masses of people gathered in the camp. While corruption, particularly over the need for food, was still rife.

Jack still hadn't got the opportunity to meet Ginny Weasley, despite the fact that this was her fifth week at the camp and he was quite disappointed. After seeing her and hearing her passionate words, he had made it his mission to meet her. He could not help but feel captivated by her sad brown eyes; there seemed so much more inside her. He could not remember ever feeling so drawn to another person in his life.

According to Frankie, however, Coughlan organized her schedule in such a way that he could exploit the teenager to his best advantage. This was something that had not surprised anyone. Photographs and film clips were taken of her work and the camp to show off to the wizarding world. The camp leader managed his staff well, achieving the most he could out of them and his limited resources, sometimes even at the risk of his volunteers' health.

When Ginny Weasley wasn't working, it appeared that she had isolated herself from the others. Often going for long walks out of the camp, it wasn't too hard to guess where she was going. Less than a mile's walk was the point at which the final confrontation had taken place and according to press reports, where she also had been found injured.

It was easy to tell even from the long distance that she was still hurting and struggling with all the burdens that had been placed upon her. It was a rare treat to see her smile; instead, a look of grim determination was etched upon her face as she worked. This had made it much harder for him to approach her.

He had no idea what he could say to her if they ever met. She had lost so much and was still battling on.

In the first few days, he had hoped to be assigned to some job with her, so that he would have something to talk about to break the ice. However Coughlan had decided, in his wisdom, to keep his team the same, placing the very photogenic Jerome Campbell as her partner. The slimy former Slytherin would give the right impression to the media as he helped her with her jobs.

"It's all about giving the right image to the right people, Jack."

He knew that Liam Coughlan was no fool and had the best intentions at the heart of his decisions. However, he couldn't help but doubt the reasoning behind placing Ginny Weasley with a man who had already shown that he was willing to use any situation to his advantage. Campbell was surely going to take advantage of her presence so that he could further his own career.

Letting out a large sigh, he jumped off his bed. It may be his day off but there was no point contemplating the issue any further. He filled the old kettle as he turned the radio on. The vocal stylings of Celestina Warbeck exploded out of the speakers. Although she was not exactly his favourite style of singer (in fact, far from it) her wailing reminded him of what must have been happier times as a warm sensation filled his insides.

Settling himself at the old table and chair in the corner of his tent with his cup of tea, his eyes fell on the _Daily Prophet._ Once again, Ginny Weasley's face was smiling up at him as she helped a small boy into the first aid tent. Scowling, he picked up the copy of the wizarding newspaper to see what the trashy tabloid journalist had written this time.

_**GINEVRA WEASLEY: THE TRUTH BEHIND THE LIES**_

_Ginevra Weasley, aged 18, daughter of senior Ministry of Magic employee Arthur Weasley, and former girlfriend of The-Boy-Who-Defeated-The-Dark-Lord, is mentally disturbed and a potential danger to both herself and others, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has been submitted regarding Ginevra Weasley's, also known as Ginny to close family and friends, troubled visions and mental capabilities, casting doubt upon her important position as a volunteer at the Wizarding Red Cross._

_A great deal of leeway has always been given to Miss Weasley, despite a series of serious questions that have been raised over her character. In the April of her sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, four months before her seventeenth birthday, she illegally left the school. The Ministry of Magic ignored this, choosing not to prosecute her. At the age of sixteen, Ginny Weasley flouted Wizarding laws, Apparated without a licence, and performed a series of highly dangerous under-age magic. Despite breaking these laws, laws that have protected the welfare of our society for centuries, Miss Weasley was welcomed back to Hogwarts for her seventh year, even though she failed to complete her first year of NEWT studies. Not only did the Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, bend the rules to let Miss Weasley return without consequence, but she also appointed the mentally fragile girl as Head Girl, a prominent position for any student at Hogwarts, despite her failure to be made a prefect earlier in her education._

_"Everyone was surprised when Weasley got the Head Girl badge," reveals James Harper, former Hogwarts student, now working at the Ministry of Magic. "It made a complete mockery of the whole system. She has a violent temper, jinxing those who cross her path. In our fifth year, during a Quidditch match, she deliberately flew into another student in the crowd with the intention of injuring him, for no apparent reason. But we came to expect very little from the girl who was taken into the Chamber of Secrets during her first year at Hogwarts._

_"It was a relief when she left the school, but I was not the only person who was apprehensive to hear that she was returning._

_"Naturally, after the war had finished and she had been discharged from St. Mungo's, we were curious to see what she was like. After all, she had spent four months dabbling in Dark Magic. I, along with many other people, was not surprised to see that she had gone completely insane. She once hexed me (that led to a three-week stay in the hospital wing) for just mentioning Harry Potter, and to my knowledge, never received any sort of punishment for her act._

_"Ginny Weasley belongs in a locked ward, and I can only fear for those in that refugee camp."_

_Top experts from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries have always raised questions about Miss Weasley's stability. As revealed previously in the Daily Prophet, many talented Healers never had wanted to release Miss Weasley back into society in the first place. There had been great debates among many of the staff regarding whether or not Ginevra Weasley should be moved to a secure ward._

_However, these discussions were overridden by top employees at the Ministry of Magic, much to the disbelief of many Healers._

_"The impact of that blast was frightening," one specialist from St Mungo's hospital revealed. "Many minds were scrambled that night. Several physiological tests were done on everyone who was present that night in Little Hangleton._

_"Miss Weasley performed very poorly on those tests, due to her exposure to Dark Magic for a sustainable period of time. I was not alone in recommending that she be moved into the Janus Thickey ward, a long-term residential ward for those who have suffered from severe spell damage. However, these calls were rejected by her family as they discharged her, prematurely in my opinion, from the hospital._

_"I would question the wisdom of the people who thought that Miss Weasley should have such a prominent and important position in wizarding society, despite the queries about her health."_

_The specialist's worst fears have, indeed, been confirmed. The Daily Prophet has unearthed worrying facts about Ginevra Weasley; facts which have been carefully concealed from the public by Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts and Liam Coughlan, leader of the Wizarding Red Cross Camp as well as some Healers from St. Mungo's._

_"Weasley has strange, mad dreams," one Red Cross volunteer claimed. "She tosses and turns in her bunk at night, calling out Harry Potter's name. It's kinda frightening actually. One minute, she's reasonably normal and the next, she is someone who needs serious help."_

_"And it's not just during the night. I've enjoyed performing paired duties but one day as I was working with her, she changed. One minute, she was laughing and joking and the next, she went rigid, before her body started shaking. And there was a scared look in her eyes. As I said, it was frightening."_

_Liam Coughlan should surely reconsider whether such a girl should be allowed to work at a Wizarding Red Cross camp. Some fear that Weasley may crack under the pressure of a demanding role and desert the camp, leaving those who need support more vulnerable than before._

An unexplainable and unexpected anger fumed inside his body towards the wizarding paper. Sparks shot out of his wand as he tore the page from the front of the _Daily Prophet_. Enough was enough. Didn't the girl deserve a break after everything she had been through? Instead, people were commenting and criticising her every move.

After all, everyone had odd nightmares. He knew he did.

Placing his wand to the edge of the newspaper, he sent sparks of fire, setting the newspaper alight and letting it fall into a pile of ashes on the table. That was the only thing these articles were any good for; cindering.

He could not help but feel furious with not only the wizarding newspaper, but also at the sneak in the camp who had given away stories about her. From what he had seen of Ginny Weasley (granted that it was not much), she had been brilliant at her job. She had devoted herself to those who had needed her help and was far from someone who was having problems with her state of mind. But then again, he hardly knew the talented woman well enough to give a fair judgement.

He had thought that they were safe within the camp. This was a protected zone to help people recover from the dreadful effects of the war. Yet, how could that be the case when people who were supposed to be trustworthy and supportive were leaking rubbish to the press?

Frowning, he got to his feet. It could only be one of five people who had written this. And while he was positive that it would not be his friend, he had to find out. He had to make sure.

Storming through the tents, he made his way through the well-taken path to Frankie's tent. Ignoring anyone who came in his way, he saw several raised eyebrows and heard quite a few angry catcalls as he left them in his wake. He didn't have time for any rubbish now. The only thing he wanted at the moment was reassurance from the woman he had depended on so much that she was not involved in any of this.

"Hello?" he called out, as he reached the door of the tent, pushing it open.

"Oh, it's you." Jerome's voice floated through the tent, emerging from the shadows, where the trunks were kept. "Frankie's not here."

"I didn't think she was on duty today."

"She's not," Jerome frowned, making his handsome face look ugly. "She should be back soon."

"Mind if I wait?" he asked, his voice tense.

He had very little time for the former Slytherin student. From what he had learnt about both Jerome and his Hogwarts' house, he didn't like or want to be a part of it. The slimy git deserved the reputation that he had earned amongst his colleagues. Everyone in the camp knew that the only person Jerome Campbell was interested in was himself.

"Not at all," Jerome replied through gritted teeth. "Mind if I go? I've got things to do and important people to see."

"Be my guest."

His eyes followed the Red Cross golden boy out of the tent. There wasn't a single likeable quality in the man. As soon as Jerome left, his eyes scanned the tent, looking for any signs of the person who had been involved in the press leak. Natural curiosity drew him over to the open trunks; in particular, the open one next to Frankie's. Moving close enough so he could get a better look inside it, he saw a pile of photographs lying on the top.

A glimpse of bright red caught his eyes and he felt instantly connected to them. Almost as if they were taken of childhood friends that he had long since forgotten.

_He stood at the top of a hill after Disapparating from the small graveyard. His sense of longing and misery grew as he watched the scene in front of his eyes unfold. His eyes were fixed upon a teenage girl, who was resting under a large oak tree at the bottom of the hill in Ottery St. Catchpole._

_Why was it that anyone that he loved was always taken away from him? And why was it that just looking at her right now made him question his decision to leave her?_

_A new sense of resolve filled his body as she looked up from the magazine and placed it in her back pocket next to her wand. He knew that if he ever changed his decision, it would not just be his parents' graves that he would be visiting. He couldn't bear to lose another person he loved, and he would not be able to live with himself if Voldemort got her as well._

_He watched as another slightly taller and stocker red haired figure helped pull her up from under the tree. She immediately stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Slowly they broke apart and her laughter echoed up the hill as she playfully hit him on his arm._

_Jealousy filled him, as a small growling sound came from his stomach. He wished he was in her arms and not her older brother. It didn't matter to him that they were just brother and sister, sharing sibling love in that embrace._

_This was a wedding, and weddings were supposed to be filled with love. Yet, here he was being deprived of the thing that he truly wanted; the person whom he loved. He was going to make that evil son of a bitch pay for ruining thousands of lives and putting happiness on hold._

_He smiled despite himself, as he imagined the evil dictator falling and finding himself in her arms. He had to believe that they would get through this. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of time before they were back together. Yet, in order for that to come true, he had to protect her first. He needed to keep her out of the fight and away from him. After seeing her for the first time since the conversation by the lake, he was suddenly aware of how difficult that was going to be._

_He heard a small popping noise behind him, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a tall teenage boy with flaming red hair, similar to the girl at the bottom of the hill. He glanced at his best friend before turning back to watch his friend's sister in the village before him._

_"Hi Ron," he said automatically, his eyes following his former girlfriend._

_"Hey mate," Ron replied, turning his attention to see what his oldest friend was looking at._

_Silence filled the air for a couple of minutes as the two boys watched the two redheaded figures below. Slowly they turned to leave, and her vibrant red hair danced behind her, as he stood enthralled by her movements, wanting, to run after her._

_"Are you okay, mate?" Ron broke through his thoughts and desires once again._

_"Yeah," he muttered._

_"I know it's hard," his friend told him in an understanding tone, placing a hand on his shoulder, "but you're doing the right thing, Harry. She's much better off out of this war."_

_"I know," Harry replied with a small sigh. He would give anything to have her back in his life, even if it was for one day more. "It's just going to be hard without her."_

_"No kidding. Remember, I grew up with her." He let out a small laugh. "She's quite a forceful presence."_

_He returned his friend's smile. "I guess I'll just have to be more forceful." He turned away from the hill and looked over Ron's shoulder, expecting to see another person. "Where's Hermione?"_

_"Gone straight to the house," he explained, his eyes following the dirt track that led to the misshaped wizarding home. "So are you ready for a wedding?"_

_"As ready as I'll ever be," he said, as he walked down the hill._

_"What are you doing here?" Frankie's voice cut through his thoughts and back to present day reality._

_He stared at her for a few seconds before speaking. It was the first time he had not been happy to see her face. Instead of rushing through his words, he tried to retrieve his memory. He longed to walk down the hill and see the girl up close and look into the face of the woman who had meant so much to him in his past life._

_She was the person that he had been yearning to see. He had to forcibly fight his natural instincts to run over to her. It was almost as if seeing her would trigger everything. He had no doubt that she was the missing piece in his jigsaw puzzle; that seeing her would bring his old life back to him and complete the puzzle once and for all._

"Jack?" Frankie asked in an uncertain tone, clearly worried for his sanity. "Are you okay?"

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at her. Glancing at her brown eyes for a second, he bit his lip. Why did he feel something jerk in his stomach as he stared into her eyes?

"I think I remembered something," he told her slowly, digesting the words as he spoke and trying to make sense of them. His eyes left her face as he looked at the old battered trunk that had triggered his memory. There was nothing remarkable about it, yet it seemed to hold more clues than the mountains of paperwork he had searched through. "And I'm pretty sure I'm Harry, not Jack."

Frankie looked at him, an amazed look on her face almost as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing and he understood exactly where she was coming from. After months of fruitless searching, he had suddenly been flooded with images of his old life. It had all happened within seconds of looking at the open trunk. It was almost as if there was something in there desperate to get out and unlock his memory.

As if reading his mind, she glanced at the trunk before sitting down at the table, slightly uncertain of her feet. "What exactly are you saying?" her voice quivered, as she looked back at him and then at the trunk.

"That I remembered something." A smile was forming on his lips. "Something important," he told her, gesturing with his hand to the open trunk. "Who's is this?"

"I'm not sure what you're getting at Jack- I mean, Harry." She was clearly at a loss, not following what he was saying. "I think you better tell me what you saw."

Harry made his way back to the table. He took her hand as he sat opposite it her and gave it a small squeeze. "Okay," he spoke softly.

Over the next half hour, he proceeded to tell her all the details of his day. Every detail could be important, and Frankie was always so good at picking clues apart. When he got to his memory, he desperately tried not to miss any details, right down to the fact that Ron had blue eyes. As he spoke of the hug he had witnessed, he felt a twinge in his heart, and a growling sensation inside him, a sense of loneliness filling his body.

A realisation hit him; he had to find her again. She made his life complete more than it had ever been. She was not just special but extraordinary, and he needed her in his life, just like she needed him in hers.

Frankie listened quietly without any interruptions. Her face held a look of concentration as she bit her bottom lip. After he had stopped speaking, a deafening silence filled the tent, as she appeared to be processing her thoughts. It seemed like hours before either one of them spoke until Frankie pulled her hand out of his.

Slowly she reached over towards him and tipped his chin up. Her soft fingers caressed his scars as she examined his face. A smile briefly graced her lips, and a look of triumph and understanding filled her eyes.

"I've been so stupid," she muttered under her breath. "Why didn't I see this before? It all makes sense."

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. "How have you been stupid? What should you have seen before? What's going on?"

"Shh," she said softly, speaking in barely a whisper as she raised her hand into the air.

He watched as she made a zigzag shape with her finger in mid air before she got up on her feet. He caught a look of shock on her face for the briefest second before she turned away from him.

Something just wasn't right.

Quickly he got to his feet, almost knocking over the table as he moved. His hand fell on her shoulder, turning her around to face him. Her normally glowing face was pale but the look of shock he had just witnessed was rapidly fading from her eyes. She cast her eyes downwards and bit her lip as if she was preparing to tell him something but couldn't quite bring herself to say the words.

This was so infuriating. She had obviously worked something out, but for one reason of another, she was staying quiet. And at the moment, he didn't care what that reason was, he needed to know what was going on. She held the key to his old life, and he yearned to unlock his mysterious past.

He grabbed her arm with one hand and tipped her face up with the other. "What do you know?"

Frankie glanced into his face again and then turned her head to look at the open trunk, before finally turning back to him. "Don't mention this memory to anyone else yet."

"Why not?"

He had no reason to tell anyone what he had seen. Yet there was desperation in her voice that he had never heard before, and he needed to understand why it was there. What was so different about this memory from the others which she had had no problems letting him share with other people in the past?

"Because this needs to be approached in the right way. Otherwise, a lot of people are going to get hurt," placing a soft kiss on his cheek, before turning to leave. She gave his hand a small squeeze as she turned away. "I'm sorry, Jack. Sorry, I mean Harry, but I need to go."

He watched stunned for a few seconds, as she sprinted out of the tent. As her brown hair flew behind her, he came back to reality. He made his way quickly to the edge of the tent and looked for her but she had already disappeared.

"FRANKIE?"


	6. Chapter Five

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

Chapter Five: Disillusionment

Her ideal vision of making a difference in the lives of the survivors had long since disappeared. As the days faded into weeks, the reality of the situation that she had placed herself in was becoming clear. Life was never easy; her past experiences had taught her that much, and her time at this camp was going to be no exception. Solutions to long and lasting problems did not appear overnight.

Despite knowing all this, Ginny was exhausted.

Waking up in the early hours of the morning after another restless and troubled night filled with visions of her past, she set about her work after little to no relaxation. Her dreams and nightmares about Harry were increasing at an alarming rate ever since she had arrived, as if a dam had broken and all her memories of him were suddenly flooding her mind. But she was sure that the sudden influx of dreams was caused by nothing more than sheer exhaustion.

Her efforts weren't making much of a difference, despite the long hours she was working. Tedious paperwork got in the way of any decisions; she had to fill out at least three pages of forms before she could even serve lunch to a dozen people. But even when the paperwork was finally done, there lay more hardships; the food portions that were given out were, due to severe rationing, nothing less than dismal. They may not have had much at The Burrow while growing up, but they never went without a meal and there was always plenty of food to go around, something that could not be said for the camp.

It was a simple fact yet a harsh reality; there just wasn't enough food to go around. Donations would arrive from the wizarding world in the form of toys, all thanks to the media's extensive coverage of the orphaned children at the camp. This left them without any of the essential items such as food and clothing, but instead, countless tents filled with toys. The size of the camp was hardly being reduced either. In the last month, only two people had been reunited with their families, whilst hundreds of thousands of people still had nowhere to go.

Fights amongst the camp refugees were frequent - almost daily - as were disagreements among the volunteers. Everyone was looking for solutions and answers to questions that simply could not be answered. It was going to take years, maybe even decades, to sort out the chaos within the camp, and there were times where it was hard to see if their work was anything other than public relations.

However, she had found an escape in the least likely of all places. Wandering out of the camp gates, she would walk to the very spot where she had lost Harry. She would sit there for hours, replaying memories of her past, before she was forced back to reality. In was in those brief, glorious moments where she saw every line on his face and heard every note in his voice. Almost as if he was in the camp with her, helping her through all this. He was her rock, even if he wasn't there physically.

"Ginny," Jerome's voice broke through her thoughts and she jolted upright, remembering that she was in one of the storage tents with Jerome. "Would you stop thinking about that article and pay attention to what you doing? You've put at least three cups of rice into that bag."

She paused, a cup of rice still in her hand, and stared at him. They had spent the last two and a half hours dividing up food into individual portions to be handed out later. It was easy to let her mind wander as she mechanically poured three cups of rice into each bag, hardly the most challenging task. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone either; all they wanted was to get a reaction from her and she refused to let them see it.

In reality, she couldn't care less about that damned article and she didn't give a rat's arse about what that bloody Skeeter cow wrote either. It was hardly surprising that Harper was criticising her actions. The only thing that had hurt was the fact that someone had leaked details about her, details that were exaggerated and close to lies. Deep down, she had been expecting, but the reality of the situation did not make it any easier and there was no denying that she was angry.

Ginny refused to meet his eyes as she tied the ends of the bag in a knot and picked up another. Jerome had been pestering her all afternoon, wanting to know her thoughts about the Daily Prophet article, but she refused to provide any details, knowing full well that anything she said could be used against her. She didn't want Rita Skeeter to succeed by providing her more material for her gossip column.

"C'mon, Ginny," he said, as he grabbed her arm, trying to get her to focus her attention on him. "It wasn't even that bad!"

"Excuse me?" she questioned in a controlled tone, pulling her arm out of his grasp, her hand itching to pull out her wand.

"Well, the comments were fairly honest," he told her, as he pulled the sleeves of his jumper further down his left arm, "and I'm struggling to see the problem in getting more press coverage." Offering her a smile, he shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Don't they always say that there's no such thing as bad publicity?"

Her brow creased as she took a couple of deep controlled breath, keeping her temper in check. "And you honestly believe that?"

"Yes, I do." His voice had a slightly pompous tone to it. "And, I also think that people have a right to know what is going on in the world."

"Since when have you had your private life released for the whole world to read?" she snapped at him, failing to control her temper and struggling to resist the urge to hex him. "Moments of your life that you don't want to think about yourself, let alone have others read about. Your biggest regrets and mistakes in black and white for the world to see and judge," she paused and looked him directly in the eyes. "How is that a good thing?"

"Ginny, you're the tragic heroine. You're the person everyone wants to read about. You've had a fantastic life full of remarkable acts and had close relations with almost all the heroes of the war. You were Harry Potter's girlfriend, for Merlin's sake," he told her, not attempting to keep his voice down, his eyes sparkling with greed. He was close to getting the prize he had been eagerly waiting for all afternoon. "You can't blame people for wanting to read about it all," he said, pausing for effect as several heads turned to look at them. It had been what he had wanted all along; to draw attention to himself. "So, isn't it your duty to share those details? You're as much public property as Harry Potter was."

"Harry was never public property and neither am I!" she spat, her hand placed firmly around the eight and a half inches of unicorn hair and hazel wood. "We are people in our own right."

"You're people in the public eye," he pressed, a grin forming on his lips, "I can't help but feel that information should be passed on."

She studied his face for a second. "You know more about this than you're telling me," she paused, as she got to her feet, trying to decipher the intent behind his words. "What did you mean by 'it's your duty'?"

Jerome got to his own feet, towering over her as he seemed to try to intimidate her by his size. "As one of the prominent figures in this country and someone in a position of power, secrets should not be hidden." He spoke in a strong carrying voice. "You should let people know these things about you."

"So you're saying that if our positions were reversed, you couldn't care less about your private life being revealed?" her voice rising for the first time.

"Not at all," he said confidently, his grin growing and eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'd be honoured."

Her hand twitched towards her back pocket and her wand. This guy could be a real smug git at times and a complete utter plonkerat others; but at the same time, she was sure he did not have the intelligence to leak information about her. He was just pretty face that was exploited for his golden boy looks, nothing more. She was saving her hexes (and the disciplinary action that would follow) for one person in particular. Ginny gritted her teeth as she thought of the woman who she knew for sure had to be behind the press scandal.

Ginny looked down at her watch before looking back up at him, "Shift's over, see you later, Jerome."

Ginny threw the empty cup right into his face with the power and accuracy she had developed from being a Chaser. An impish grin emerged on heris face, this was a battle that she never lost. She had always found that arguing with an angry Quidditch player was never a good idea. She escaped the tent before she could say or do anything more. She didn't want to face Coughlan's wrath over an act of rash impatience against his golden boy.

Turning her back on him, she strode over to the door. Biting her bottom lip, desperately trying to keep her temper in check, she flung the door open. There were at least a dozen people that had stopped their work, no doubt egged on by the Daily Prophet and Jerome's actions.

"Where are you going?" his angry voice followed after her.

"Out for a walk," she replied quickly without turning around.

"GINNY," Neve's dreamlike voice brought her to a halt and made her turn round. It always had a slightly unnatural feel to it when she raised it, which instantly brought her words to the attention to anyone nearby. "Wait up, I'll come with you. It's not safe out there, more like a Death Eater's playground."

"No, it's okay, I want to be alone," she explained softly. "Trust me, I can take care of myself."

Neve glared at Jerome for a split second before she turned back to Ginny. "What about the Death Eaters?"

"I can handle them." Ginny said honestly.

Voldemort had been destroyed but his Death Eaters were still on the loose. Just like his fall last time, many of Tom Riddle's cronies had once again escaped Azkaban and were still roaming the streets, unwilling to give up on their leader. She supposed this belief came from the same core belief that they had; Harry was still alive and he was out there somewhere.

In fact, the ridiculous Rita Skeeter article had taken up the whole front page, moving the news about the Death Eater attack to page three. The Dark Mark had been found hovering over a wizarding village just outside Middlesborough. Homes had been destroyed; people had been massacred. Voldemort's followers had been attempting to find his body and any clue that led to the cause of his downfall, in the hope of resurrecting him again.

All the prominent Death Eaters no longer walked on the streets. They had either fallen in battle or currently inhabited cells in Azkaban. She was more than confident that she could handle the remaining ones. In fact, she almost wanted a chance to release some of her pent up tensions by taking it out on some Voldemort wannabe.

Ginny gave a quick wave to her friend before leaving the tent. She weaved through the camp and straight through the gate without stopping. Ignoring the rules about camp security, she walked onwards without turning around, whilst shrugging off the feeling that someone was following her. It was probably a volunteer just calling her back to camp, reminding her of camp safety issues. But she didn't care about that right now; she needed to be alone and no one was going to stop her.

The shade of the trees directed her route as she kept walking until she reached a signpost. Looking up briefly at it, she turned left and down towards a road that led to an old manor house. She wrapped her arms around her as she walked closer to the building, a chill filling her insides. Her arms providing a protection from the both the cool air on the outside and the sense of dread that she was fighting against, inside herself. Finally, she reached the point where it had all happened; the destination of her frequent trips outside the camp.

Resting her back against a tall rock, she shifted her gaze towards the alley. Her hand moved to her silver necklace, the diamond encrusted pendant sparkling in the autumn light as it hung on the delicate white gold chain.

_Sixteen-year-old Ginny Weasley closed her eyes. She had been_ _waiting for this moment for weeks. No, she had been waiting for this moment for months, ever since she had discovered the mysteries behind Voldemort's immortality and the search for the missing Horcruxes. Finally, she was ready and prepared to join them. She had finally learnt enough to be useful and not a hindrance in the quest._

_Harry had finally given in after her injury, much to her delight. She had argued that she was going to hunt down the remaining Horcruxes with or without his permission, even if it meant setting out on her own. After hearing the bluntness in her voice, he knew she wasn't bluffing and rather than letting her go out by herself, he decided the best way to keep her safe was to bring her with them. However, he had placed one condition on her; she had to learn and be confident in her Apparition skills before she could join them. Today was the first time after weeks of lessons when she had felt completely confident in her abilities._

_At the crack of dawn, she had thrown a couple of things into a bag from her trunk. Without a word to anyone, she had snuck out of her Hogwarts dormitory. She had done it so many times that she had perfected the art of sneaking through the school; she had yet to be caught. Quickly, she had made her way to the third floor, and found the statue of the humpbacked witch._

_Excitement coursed through her body as the secret passageway opened, and she ran down the tunnel, before emerging into Honeydukes. As the early morning sunshine hit her eyes through the glass panes of the front window, she felt as though she was lifted from the mundane and placed in a world far more exciting and adventurous. Finally, she was going to play a part in this war, instead of sitting on the sidelines and watching the people she loved suffer. She was finally going to get a chance to fight for what she believed in._

_Spinning_ _on her feet, she concentrated solely on her desired destination. Within seconds, the empty boarded-up Hogsmeade shops had disappeared and she found herself in a small wizarding village. A smile graced her lips as she realised that she had reached the new headquarters, Godric's Hollow._

_A tremble filled her insides as she walked past a small graveyard that was filled with stark reminders of the horrors of war. It was not a big village by any attempt of the imagination, scattered with a few houses. It was a place where people could disappear, and hide from not only Muggles, but also, other wizards as well. She paused, gazing at the small house where she had stopped. For the first time, she admitted to herself that she was slightly nervous._

_There was no turning back now; she was finally in this fight and nothing was going to alter that._

_The door swung open. A wide smile met her eyes as he almost ran towards her. Whatever he had said in the past and whatever he may say in the future, she knew the truth right now; he was happy to have her here by his side, as she had wanted to be all along._

_"So," he said, his smile growing as he placed his arms around her waist, "the lessons went well."_

_"Yeah," she replied, as she moved her hand into his, "I'd have that pass in the bag, if I didn't have to wait til August to take it." She grinned at him. "There's no leaving eyebrows behind for this Weasley."_

_Harry let out a small laugh, a laugh so warm that it instantly eased all the earlier tension that she was feeling. "There was never any doubt with you."_

_Ginny smiled back at him as she looked into his eyes. "I had excellent motivation to learn fast." _

_Giving his hand a small encouraging squeeze, she looked past him at the house. "Was this place your parents'?" she asked gently._

_"Yeah, it's been rebuilt of course after Voldemort destroyed it. Lupin says that it's the mirror image of what used to be there, right down to the pots and pans. It's amazing what a bit of magic can achieve." He paused as a lump filled his throat. "It's just a shame everything can't be brought back that easily." Harryhe said with a small shrug as if he was attempting to shrug off the past, "Besides, it feels better as a base camp than Grimmauld Place, and after a little bit of powerful magic, we managed to cast the Fidelius Charm over it. There was a trust aspect to the initial casting that we managed to alter so that everyone who knows about this place is safer. It's kinda complicated, I'm sure Hermione will bore you with the details later." Harry explained as he started to lead her up the steps. "Anyway, after adding our own bits of magical protection, it's about as safe a place as we could have wanted. The Burrow isn't practical anymore, especially after you joined us." _

_Her smile grew into a mischievous grin. As far as her mother was concerned, she was still lying in her bed at Hogwarts. It would be another couple of hours, if she was lucky, before Molly Weasley discovered that her little girl had disappeared through one of the secret passageways to Hogsmeade, leaving the safe confines of the castle to join the fight with the rest of her children. _

_Ginny had intended to send Hedwig to her, explaining everything, including her actions and the reasons why she felt this was important but she wasn't going to waste anymore time; there were more important things to attend to. Whilst she knew her mum would be angry about her choices and the way she had chosen to carry them out, Ginny also knew that if she had gone back to The Burrow, she would have been stuck in an argument that could have lasted for hours, maybe even several days._

_"How's the Horcrux hunt going?" she asked, trying not to feel guilty about lying to her mother._

_Harry pushed open the door to the house. "We'll talk about that later," he explained, as he led her up the stairs, "I want to show you something first."_

_She sent him a confused look as they walked past two bedrooms. "Where are we going?"_

_"Shh," he placed his finger on her lips, "it's a surprise."_

_"Harry," she started, in an attempt to argue with his words._

_"Ginny," he overrode her, "please wait, it's something I have to do."_

_He pushed open a door and led her into a small bedroom. The room was dominated by a double bed, as if the previous occupants had need for little else. There was a scattering of mismatched furniture which hinted that the room had belonged to people who had not had the time or money to decorate the room, spending their time focusing on other, more pressing things. Above a small dressing table, light poured into the room and lit it up._

_Slowly he let her hand go, their fingers brushing against each other as he walked over to a table. She watched as he carefully picked up a small necklace off the table and examined it. Walking back to her, a slight smile appeared on his lips._

_"Turn 'round," he said softly._

_"What's going on?" she asked in a confused tone._

_"Shh," he said again as he stood behind her._

_Carefully, he lifted up her hair and held it in one hand as he gently placed the white gold necklace around her neck. As he released her hair and let it fall softly down her back, his arms fell to her waist. They stood in stillness, Harry holding onto her tightly as if she would vanish into thin air if he let go. _

_"It was my mum's, my dad had given it her."_

_Instantly, she broke away from the embrace, and her hands shot to her neck. "Harry, I can't wear this."_

_"Yes, you can," he said firmly, as he caught her hands in his and lowered them. "I want you to wear it. They went through this together, and I want to do that with you. I love you, Ginny. We're not playing at things here, and I want to show the world how I feel about you." _

_He smiled at her, giving her hand a small squeeze. "With you and your wonderful talents by my side, this is going to be over soon, and I'm looking forward to that day. I promise you, Gin, before the end of the year, we'll see the end of him. This necklace is to remind you of our hopes, our aspirations, and most importantly, our love for one another."_

Whether she stayed there for five minutes or five hours, she didn't know. All she knew was that the autumn sun had been slowly fading away and her sole focus was on reliving the short moment she had shared with Harry; the one moment where every problem in the world seemed solvable and the future shined brightly. She didn't want to leave. This place was her only connection to Harry and leaving now would mean to turn her back on him again and disappear.

A shiver ran down her spine and she accepted defeat, turning to leave. It was close to dusk and the air had acquired a chilly feeling.

A silence had fallen on the whole area; even the birds had stopped their musical chirping. Something wasn't right and if there was one thing she still trusted, it was her instincts. She had to get out of here fast and get to somewhere safe. Enough battles had taught her that this was the safest thing to do, if she valued her life.

Sprinting through the gates, she came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes scanned the ground, trying to find the route back to the camp, her uneasiness increasing as each moment passed. Her eyes located the Dark Mark hanging in the air, in the opposite direction from where she had just come.

"GINNY!"

Her attention shifted to the direction of the voice; she saw a woman weaving through the tents, eagerly coming towards her. This was the last person she had expected or wanted to see. Francesca McGovern was far too secretive and walked around the camp as if she owned it. Frankie had been waiting for her to fall so she could laugh at her.

"Frankie!" she said in a stunned tone. "What do you want?"

"To talk," Frankie replied, looking at her directly in the eyes.

"So, you can fill the pages of the Daily Prophet about me?" she scoffed, turning her back on her fellow volunteer. "I really don't think so."

Frankie's hand landed on her shoulder. "You think that was me?"

Ginny maintained eye contact with her, replying coolly, "You're the only person here I know who hates me."

"There's no denying that." Frankie replied, without pausing for breath, "but if I was you and had half a brain, I would not be thinking about who hates me. Instead, I'd be looking for someone who has a motive to harm you. Believe me, I'm not going to benefit from talking to the press, but other people in this camp will and they want to destroy you, Ginny."

"And you wanted to waste my time talking about this?" Ginny felt her hand crawling towards her wand. "Because I really don't have much time for all this rubbish, and someone should be on their way to see Coughlan about _that_."

Frankie's eyes followed her gesture to the Mark. "He'll already know. It's not the first time this has happened and it won't be the last." Her voice had a resigned quality to it. "But this is something different," she said forcibly, before pausing, "it's about…"

Frankie's sentence stopped dead; it was almost as if she was struggling to choose which words to use. She reached out and took Ginny's hands, opening her mouth again to speak, but no words came out.

"Would you just get on with it?"

Ginny was getting impatient. Ever since she had arrived at the camp, Frankie had been a constant obstacle preventing her from completing her work and now she was stopping her from going to Coughlan, especially as the Dark Mark hovered over them.

"You think Harry Potter's still alive, right?" her voice shaking as she spoke.

"Yes," she said in a firm but apprehensive tone, not sure if she wanted to get into a debate in the middle of a street with the only lady of whom she was suspicious. She hadn't discussed any matters concerning Harry with anyone besides her family, Luna, and Neville. "People don't just disappear into thin air. Especially those who have so much talent and so many things to live for."

"Yet, he's never tried to find you," she spoke in a soft yet nervous voice, one that Ginny hadn't heard her use before. "You were the love of his life, the person he'd risk anything for, and he's made no attempt to come looking for you."

"Do you have a point?"

"Yes," she snapped back quickly in the confident tone she normally used.

Ginny's hand reached for her wand again. "Well, can you get to it then, within the next couple of minutes? Otherwise, you can just bugger off."

"I think…"

"GINNY! FRANKIE!" Jerome's frantic voice called from behind them.

"What?!" both girls said instantly, in slightly impatient tones.

He brought his hands to rest against his head and panted. Struggling for breath, he attempted to speak whilst looking like he had just run a marathon.

"What is it?" Frankie asked as she went over towards him.

"You need to get help," he said, looking straight past Frankie at Ginny.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, her body growing tense.

She had known that something was going to happen. After years of planning against Tom Riddle and his followers with the Order, she had developed a sixth sense for these kinds of things. Something was wrong; she knew it.

Her eyes fell back on the Dark Mark that was still hanging in the air and coldness filled her insides. Her hand wrapped around her necklace as her heart pounded against her ribcage. This was not over yet - far from it.


	7. Chapter Six

**Lost**

**Teens**

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

**Chapter Six: Hope**

Harry left the tent and ran through a maze of the camp, coming across several obstacles. Breaking out into a sprint, he knew he didn't have time to waste, especially when she was capable of disappearing. With each step, his movements became swifter, more frantic, as his heart throbbed and his sides ached in pain.

Pausing for a few seconds, he took a couple of quick shallow breaths to massage his side, the pain slowly subsiding. He was positive that he must have pulled or strained a muscle but right now that didn't matter. He would deal with any minor pains once he had found her.

Frankie was not going to leave him like that, he wouldn't let her. She was hiding something and he needed to know what it was. She had the key to his lost memories, but for some reason, she had just disappeared before explaining what was going on. He was so close to unlocking the secrets of his past, the knowledge of the present, and the destiny of his future. But why was he being deprived of that chance?

He was not willing to listen to excuses today; he wanted the truth and wanted it now.

Hadn't Frankie always offered to help him? She had spent countless hours scanning through piles of articles with him, looking through endless lists, with just the smallest bit of hope that any piece of information could help reveal his identity. Yet today, he couldn't understand why. Why had she left him, confused and alone, when she had finally uncovered his identity; why couldn't she tell who he really was, where his true identity lay?

After a few more heaving breaths, Harry summoned up the last ounce of strength he had left as he darted through the camp. He hardly cared that people were in the way as he weaved his way through the melange of obstacles, ignoring any calls that followed after him.

His eyes kept scanning the grounds for anyone who could help him find her. In theory, it shouldn't have been a hard task. Frankie was both well known and well liked by most of the camp, a swarm of people usually around her. Yet he doubted that she was joking around with friends today. Frankie looked like she was heading off alone, and if she wanted to escape, she was normally very good at it. She rarely told anyone what was going on in her mind until all the wheels were in motion, leaving him and others lost in the dust.

He paused for a second. He had to think about this logically if he was going to find her. In a camp this size, he was never going to find her if he ran around like a headless chicken. It could a few hours if he was really lucky. And the last thing he needed was a fruitless search. He didn't have hours, he had waited long enough.

Letting out a long breath, he looked into the nearest tent. A small smile formed on his lips as an idea hit him. It was so simple; he was amazed that it had taken him so long to think of it but then he had hardly been thinking straight for the last hour. If he made his way into one of the offices, gaining a bit of privacy from the mob, he could easily cast a simple locator spell.

The pace of his movements slowed down but his strides became much more purposeful. He had a new focus and a path toward it: becoming one more step closer to his identity.

A bolt of blonde shot out in front of him from one of the tents. This was the break that he had been waiting for as his eyes followed the Irish witch.

"Neve!" he called after one of Frankie's friends. "Neve!"

"Hey, Jack," she called back.

Neve had paused but her manner suggested more; her bright blue eyes were frantically scanning the camp, darting in every direction, searching for something or someone. Her hands fidgeted restively and a nervous tension had filled the air. Something was not quite right here and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

"Are you okay?" he asked, making his way over to her and taking her hand. She looked much shaken. "What's happened?"

"Nothing," Neve's voice shook, the dreamlike quality he was so used to hearing disappearing. The tension in her body contravened her words yet she chose to repeat them, "It's nothing, really."

The recent happenings in the camp were far from nothing.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, refusing to back down, focusing on the quaking woman before him and forgetting his hunt. "You can tell me."

"Well, it's just… well, I have to leave this camp and make sure she's okay," Neve explained in cryptic tones, unwilling to give much away. In this camp one had to be sure not to reveal much information, until you knew the other person's position on the matter. "Make sure that she doesn't do anything stupid, especially after everything that's happened today."

Harry looked at her, more than a little confused. "In case who doesn't do anything stupid?"

"Ginny Weasley. Jerome's been badgering her all day about that damn article," she revealed, letting her guard down as she looked directly into his eyes, blue meeting green and interlocking. "A couple of minutes ago, she finally lost her temper and walked out." She broke eyes contact with him as she briefly looked towards the floor. "And I guess I don't want her to be alone out there," she said in a motherly tone. "You don't have to be a genius to see that she needs to have a friend. Don't get me wrong, I admire her spirit, passion and bravery." A small smile graced her lips. "I'm sure as hell I couldn't do everything that she has. Very few could but she needs a friend and there must be a reason why she turned up here instead of spending time with her friends and family. As brave as she wants to be, she needs someone to watch her back."

"That's something we all need from time to time." Harry agreed with her.

"I just think I should do something to help if I can."

He smiled back at her. "Just make sure you take care of yourself out there," he told her softly. "Keep your hand on your wand and your eyes out for Death Eaters." Harry reached over and took her hand, giving it a small squeeze as she returned his smile.

"I worked in the Sudan for three years before coming back home to help out over here," Neve explained, her hand moving to her pocket, where her wand lay. She carefully wrapped her fingers around the eight and three quarter inches of oak, the feel of the wood against her skin providing her a bit of reassurance. "I should be fine. I know when something doesn't feel right and I'll be sure to avoid it."

"Good to know," he said, his smile growing. No matter what Neve had said earlier, she had as much bravery as anyone else. "You're one of the few people here that everyone trusts and values."

"Bless you," she replied in barely a whisper, her face turning a rich crimson colour. "Now, I would love you to keep flattering me, but I really should get going while I still have a chance of finding her."

Harry watched for a second as she turned her back on him before his mind jolted back to the reason he had stopped her. "Neve, one last thing."

She looked over her shoulder. "Anything," she said, her soft voice floating towards him.

"Have you seen Frankie?" he asked, the sense of urgency returning to his voice. "It's pretty important I find her."

"I'm sorry," she started, looking straight at him, "but I haven't seen her since breakfast." Her voice picked up a little as she studied his face. "I'll let her know that you're looking for her if I see her."

"Thanks."

She squeezed his hand as she placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're welcome."

Harry paused to watch her leave. He could see her blonde hair weaving amongst the crowd before she disappeared. Without knowing why, he looked from the gate of the camp towards the sky.

This camp brought out the best in so many people. Those that had fought during the war were without doubt heroes. However, there was something extra special about the people who continued to try to make the world a better place, long after the final battle had been fought and the war was won. They could have easily turned their backs on all this and gone back to their normal lives like so many others had done. However, they had sacrificed their happiness and put their lives on the line for people that they didn't even know. It wasn't about making the easy decisions, but the right ones.

_**"**If the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort."_

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts as Jerome's body emerged from the masses and banged into him. His hands flew out in front of him to steady himself and prevent him from falling over.

"HEY!" Harry called after him, but the dark figure ignored him as he ran straight for the gate.

Harry had made his mind up. He wasn't going to fade into the background again and let everyone suppress him. Just like he had not let Neve give him an easy answer and was going to find Frankie, he would not let that former Slytherin belittle him.

A profound sense of uneasiness had filled the air, an ominous feeling settling over the area. The familiar notion of dread filled his body. It was such a familiar feeling, he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt this way at some point. A sense of duty and a need to help replaced his dread. It was not like the camp to be this quiet and for people to disappear into thin air. Something may not feel right but that did not mean that he should be running back to his tent.

Reacting on instinct, he forgot to connect with his brain. He spent the next couple of hours fruitlessly looking for Frankie. He was sure that the distraction that lay with Neve was not helping things. The blonde, brunette and most importantly the redhead, kept floating in his mind, leaving his search unfocused and unproductive. With all of this, he struggled to understand how he couldn't find his friend. Frankie had always been there when he needed her, so where was she now?

If he ever needed to find her quickly, it was today. Distractions had left him far from alert and his frustrations mounted as the search went on. It was almost as if she had donned an invisibility cloak or cast a disillusionment charm over herself.

No one had seen her, heard from her, or spoken to her. It seemed like she had vanished.

He looked to the sky hopelessly, at a loss for what to do next. Trepidation rang through his body as he saw it. No matter how many times he saw the Dark Mark, he would never get used to it. The smoky green head with the serpent tongue would haunt him to the day he died. A flash of memory jolted his mind.

_"There it was, hanging in the sky above the school: the blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building… whenever they had murdered…_

_And Harry, too, looked ahead at the skull, and fear swelled inside him like a venomous bubble, compressing his lungs, driving all other discomfort from his mind…"_

It appeared so often at the camp that everyone had learned to ignore it with the effect that the residents were almost desensitized. He knew, though, that he could never get used to it. A very small part of him hoped that he'd die before he got used to seeing the mark. How anyone could get used to Lord Voldemort's symbol and everything it represented was beyond him.The mark symbolised all the worst aspects of the wizarding world.

Things like that should not be forgotten, but he wished that they could be left in the past. There were lessons to be learnt from that mark, but by no means, should it have become a part of everyday life.

Harry forgot his muddled pursuit of Frankie as he darted instinctively towards the gate. Sometimes they brought the injured and the dead back into the camp. Other times they took search parties out from there but either way, you had to be at those gates in order to offer any form of help.

As the camp gates came into view, he saw her. Frankie stood with Ginny Weasley and Jerome, seeming to be having a very animated conversation with them. He glanced between the trio standing before him and the Dark Mark that, by a trick of the dying light, seemed to be hovering over them.

_Harry's heart pounded hard against his chest; he felt like it was going to break through his ribcage. Trepidation had taken over his body within seconds as the rumours reached him. Dropping everything, he had arrived in Hogsmeade as quickly as he could. Looking at the sky, his worst fears confirmed._

_Rumours of an attack on the village had reached headquarters less than ten minutes ago. As soon as he had seen Aberforth Dumbledore's head appear in the fire, he knew something wasn't right. The barman of the Hogs Head did not get involved in matters of the Order unless something was urgent. He preferred to give the impression to the world that he was not involved in the fight. However, it was merely a façade he had constructed in order to receive clandestine information from the more interesting sources._

_Harry had hardly heard the old wizard as he had reported the attack. The planned attack on Hogsmeade had been initiated to create chaos, so that the Death Eaters would be left free to attack Hogwarts. Currently the only thing keeping them out the school was the small contingent of teachers and older students who had immediately come to the defence of the school. Instead of digesting all this information, his mind focused in on one person in particular. _

_It was obvious from the start that she had left to join the fight. She wouldn't be the woman he loved if she hadn't. After so many arguments about her return to school and being left on the sidelines, he'd eat his hat if she wasn't there. After the passion she felt for this cause, she was not going to leave any chance to battle against Lord Voldemort and his followers. She was not the type to stay at school while everyone else fought in the battles. She'd be there, fighting for the Order, till death if she had to._

_While the frantic discussion had started on what to do next, Harry had joined the lead party to provide help, temporarily abandoning his hunt. He couldn't sit by and discuss tactics, while all this was happening. He was made for action and that was what was called for right now._

_Moments later, he had found himself in Hogsmeade, at the opposite end of the action. Running through the village, his wand in the air, he fired out spells at the retreating backs of the Death Eaters, who appeared to be admitting defeat and fleeing._

_The Dark Mark was hanging in the sky, hovering over a scene of pure chaos. Flames flew into the sky from the countless boarded up shops that had been set alight. Bodies were scattered along the ground. It looked like a scene from the Somme. There was a huge loss of life over little gain but he supposed he had to be grateful that the Death Eaters had fled and left the victims alone._

_"Harry," A round faced teenager was running up to him, almost out of breath. _

_"Thank Merlin you're here."_

_"What happened, Neville?"_

_"Just come," he said, urgently. "There's no time to explain."_

_Harry's eyes fell to the ground. While many of the victims, in fact the majority of them, wore Death Eaters' robes and had donned white masks, there were some faces that he recognised from their side too. His heart let out a sob as he saw the friends and allies that lay before him._

_There were those who he only knew by sight. Hermione's favourite teacher, Professor Vector, had a broken wand crushed in her hand. Ambrosius Flume, the owner of Honeydukes sweetshop, had fallen on the doorstep to his shop, protecting the secret passageway to the school. There were others; people of his own age, who had yet to or had just passed their seventeenth birthdays; people that he had spent years with at school, laughed with in class. They had all lost their lives defending what was right._

_Hannah Abbott lay in front of the boarded up post office. She was a picture of innocence, her blonde hair in pigtails and clothed in her school uniform. The dirt on her hands and on the edges of her robes gave the impression that she had run straight out of an Herbology lesson. She looked just like the girl he had watched being sorted seven years ago, except for one thing - the look of shock in her brown eyes._

_"Harry," Neville said again, his voice shaking as he spoke, obviously struggling to control his emotions. "This way."_

_"What about…"_

_"She got hit. She's barely breathing…. she needs you."_

_Harry didn't need anymore encouragement than that. There was something very wrong about stepping over dead bodies without a care for them but he knew he could do nothing for them now and Neville would not be leading him through this chaos if it was not important. So instead, he held his resolve and walked straight on. One day Lord Voldemort would pay for what he had done, but right now, his foremost concern was clearing up this destruction._

_He felt like his heart had stopped as he turned the corner. A woman with blonde hair was bent over a woman with the most amazing, vibrant red hair, the one person that he cared most about in the world, the person he had thought he had protected from all this._

_Slowly he walked forward. It was almost as if time had stopped as looked at her. His heart had increased in speed, counteracting his slow movements. Dumbfounded, he could hardly move. His whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of minutes and he pushed all other thoughts out of his mind to focus on her health. _

_How had she even got caught up in this mess anyway? They had broken up so that he could stop her from getting hurt. She was supposed to be safe inside the castle. Yet, inside he knew that a part of him would have been disappointed to find her sitting in Gryffindor Tower doing her Defence_ _Against the Dark Arts homework, while the battle raged outside the walls of Hogwarts. _

_In all honesty he knew that he would not have been able to stop her fighting today. Just like he wasn't able to stop her joining the battle last year or the year before, no matter what actions he had taken by the lake. _

_Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade with the aim of going onto Hogwarts, killing anyone who got in their way. _

_"Luna?" he said, his eyes fixed on the motionless body lying before him. "What happened?"_

_"Well, she ran out of school as soon as she heard."_

_A sense of pride had filled his body and he had to forcibly stop a small smile from forming on his lips. She really was something else. "Yeah, she'd do that."_

_"She was amazing, battling Death Eaters two at a time. She really helped us to stop them from getting through to the school until the Order arrived and took over," Neville continued, picking up from where his friend had left off. "But then rumour got around that she was out here," Neville paused and looked down to the floor at his friend. "They knew about the pair of you and she became an instant target."_

_"We tried to convince her to go back to school." Luna explained, her voice shaking, containing none of the dreamlike qualities that he was used to. It was as if she was struggling to retell the story. Tears filled her eyes as she took her friend's hand. "But she was having none of it."_

_"She continued fighting," Neville said, briefly letting a guilty smile form on his lips before continuing with his story. "That was until she was taken out. Hit in the back by a curse from Avery."_

_"What kind of curse?"_

_"I don't know." Neville said hopelessly. "But I know it wasn't the Avada Kedavra; I didn't see any green lights."_

_"And she's still breathing," Luna intercepted, "not a strong breath, but it's there."_

_"Madam Pomfrey will know what to do." Neville said. "We just need to get her up there."_

_"I know," Harry muttered as he went over towards his girlfriend._

_Her body looked so small, lying on the floor. So delicate and just like so many others, not at all ready for the horrors of war. His hand fell into hers as he slowly turned her body, thankful that there was not a single mark on it._

"HARRY, HARRY!"

He jerked out of his memories as bright brown eyes bore straight into his, almost in disbelief. The sorrow from a few weeks before seemed to have disappeared, replaced with shock and confusion. He saw a range of emotions splay across her face, her eyes reflecting in a pool of pain and joy.

Her soft hands had shot to her mouth, her widened eyes giving away her surprise and disbelief. Slowly her hand fell down her face, brushing her vibrant red hair that had fallen out of her plait and was resting again her cheek as she continued to look at him. Likewise, he couldn't keep his eyes off her. His wishes of meeting her were finally coming true. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wanted to hear her say, so many questions he needed to ask. But seeing her face to face for the first time, he struggled to grasp any sense of the situation unveiling before him.

Silence had captured the whole area under its folds. All the noise from just moments before had evaporated into the air. There was no need for sounds or words.

Slowly he walked closer to her, ignoring both Frankie and Jerome as his focus stayed solely on Ginny. His chest swelled with emotion. There was something different about this meeting. Something special, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt someone who had already been through so much.

There was an overwhelming desire to swoop her up into his arms and forget everything else. He felt connected to her but something was holding him back, stopping him.

He hardly knew her; it would be improper to go and collect her in her arms. He couldn't give her a false hope that came from her initial call. There were so many Harry's in the world, and if he were special enough to be that close to such a remarkable woman, surely he would have remembered now. Yet despite all the longing, there was nothing extra, no recognition of her. He had to be honest with himself and her.

"Harry," she said in a whisper that carried through the air. Tears were filling her bright brown eyes as she let out a deep breath. "Oh, Harry. I knew you were alive. I kept saying it and no one believed me. It's really you, isn't it?"

He wanted to say something. He knew he should say something. She needed some kind of response but he was not sure what he could tell her. He couldn't be her Harry. The odds on it were over a million to one and if he was her Harry, then how could he forget a face like that? How could he forget her eyes, the freckles that were scattered over her nose, the sweet smile of recognition, and her vibrant red hair?

If he really were Harry Potter, he'd remember.

"Jack… sorry, Harry," Frankie ended the new silence that had filled the air. Despite struggling to adapt to the situation, she was trying her best to bring some sense to the situation and he had never been so thankful to her. "This is…"

"Frankie." Jerome hissed, glaring at her. "You're not right to give him inflated ideas." As he spoke, both girls made a reach for their wands. "Let him work things out."

"Would you shut up for a second?" Ginny said automatically, pulling her wand out of her pocket. "You've been a real shit all day, stirring things up that should be left alone, and I can't be dealing with you now."

"I'm just trying to help." Jerome looked desperate; it was as though he had dropped all pretences and his real personality was starting to emerge. His eyes had narrowed to Frankie and he spoke in a snake-like fashion. "And we've got other things to do. What about the Dark Mark? What about Neve?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "What about Neve? What do you know?"

"Nothing!" he replied defensively. "It's just the mark is hanging and she's missing."

"Sooner or later, I'm going to figure out what exactly is going on with you," Ginny said before turning her attention back to Harry.

"Whatever!" Venom dripped from his voice as he held his hand up in the air in mock protest, his guard dropping for the first time in weeks. "All I'm saying is people should work things out for themselves, using the brains that they were given instead of being spoon fed like babies. And that is very much the case with our friend, Jack." He crossed his arms as he glowered at her. "So you, Francesca, need to be quiet, right now."

"Oh shut it," Frankie muttered as she glared at Jerome, watching him storm off. "Harry, this is Ginny Weasley."

"I know," Harry replied to his friend before he turned his attention to Ginny, stepping closer to her. He found his voice glowing with pride as he spoke. "Everyone knows that, you were amazing in the war. How could I not know you?"

You could not have failed to know who Ginny Weasley was if you had lived in the wizarding world for the last year.

"Harry, you still don't get it. This is Ginny." Frankie continued as if he hadn't interrupted her. "Your Ginny."

"My Ginny?"

Ginny walked forward and reached for his hand before pulling away. Instead, her arms hugged her stomach in a protective hold. For some reason, she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him. Her eyes glistened with tears; he could see every emotion filling those large brown eyes. He was so close that he could even see the flashes of yellow in her amber eyes, giving them extra depth. She turned away from him, unable to bear the pain of not being recognised.

"Ginny?" he questioned, as he made an attempt to reach for her before thinking better of it.

He could see the need and longing in her eyes; eyes that were so full of energy and emotion that it was almost like looking straight into her heart. Despite the strong stance she held through her eyes, he could tell that she was struggling to cope with everything that had just happened in the last couple of minutes.

Finally she let her brown eyes meet his green ones, "You know who I am right? Who I really am?" Her voice shook and he could feel his hand trembling. "You know who we are?"


	8. Chapter Seven

Lost

Teens

**Summary: **Two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Wizarding world is still in chaos; many people are living in refugee camps across Britain and their hero is still missing and feared dead. The loss of Harry Potter has proved harder for some to take than others and Ginny Weasley sets out to devote her life to helping others and to sacrificing her life just like her boyfriend had done. However, the distraught young witch finds that the world is more corrupt, distressing, and shocking than she ever could have imagined. How will things change when her past crosses roads with her?

**Chapter Seven: Despair**

Ginny's heart felt like it had stopped as she stared at him, unable to take her eyes off the once bespectacled man standing before her. Despite the mutilations on his face, there was no doubt for a second in her mind that this was Harry.

_Her_ Harry.

Through the mist from her tears, she could clearly see the man she had always loved despite all the disfigurements that marred his handsome face. His small lightening blot scar had exploded from his forehead across his entire face, giving him a look that rivalled Bill's.

A lump had risen in her throat as she opened her mouth. She hugged her arms around her waist tighter, turning to them for support and comfort. She tried to comfort herself yet it was harder than she had thought; he clearly couldn't remember who he was, let alone who she was. Tears were now freely flowing down her face and she had no great desire to stop them.

She had to force herself not to turn away from the hurt that was currently coursing through her body and penetrating her heart. She loved Harry and although it was hard to understand how he didn't recognise her, he was still Harry. He was still the man whom she loved and the same person that she had met all those years ago. And if she hadn't turned her back when everyone had tried to convince her that Harry was dead, then there was no chance she was walking away now.

Finally she met his gaze, her brown eyes meeting his green ones. "You know who I am right? Who I really am?" Her voice shook, and her insides trembled. He had to know who she really was, not the perceptions of the media and society. He needed to know what they meant to each other, what they had, what they used to be and what they were going to be again. "You know who we are?"

An unnatural spell of silence followed her words that left her almost wishing that she had run instead of trying to initiate a conversation. Time seemed to have stopped as it took an eternity for Harry to reply.

"I'm sorry," he muttered softly, looking away from her face and towards the ground.

Ginny tried to stop her cold tears from flooding down her hot face but she was unsuccessful. It seemed that the gates to her heart had been smashed into pieces and the remains were slowly making their way down the slopes of her cheeks, glistening in the sunlight. She had known from the second she had seen him that he hadn't recognised her. She knew that Harry would have never left her hanging if she knew who he was, if he knew who she was. Yet the pain of hearing him confirm her worst beliefs was not even comparable to the actual knowledge.

In the past, despite all the obstacles that had been placed in front of them, he had always been there for her, supported her through their struggles. This time, it was her job to be strong for him. Their relationship had always been unique in that sense; their history together was filled with both moments of triumph and intense grief. This was just another chapter in their lives and she knew that she had to move on if she wished to get her Harry back.

"It's okay," she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, speaking as much to herself as to him, trying to reassure herself of the same. "It's okay."

Yet nothing had ever felt further away from being okay. Throughout all the worst experiences in her life, she had always had Harry by her side, making even those bad moments bearable just by his presence. However this time, things were different. This time, she was alone, despite the fact that Harry was standing in front of her in full form. How could she handle such a big revelation without her biggest support?

She needed an escape: an escape to set herself free from all the pain and anguish that had become such a common occurrence in her life, an escape where she could let her façade crumble, a place where she didn't need to be strong for anyone. She wanted to escape into his strong arms and become lost in their love for each other and forget the world's problems, just like she had done so many times before.

As her eyes met his for the briefest of seconds, she came to the realisation that she was living in a state of delusion; that finding an escape was far from a possibility. She turned her back on him to give herself a few moments to compose herself before she faced the pain head on. Taking a long deep breath, she wiped her face across her length of her arm, drying her tears.

You can do this, the insistent voice in her mind chanted.

"Ginny," he questioned, placing his hand on her shoulder and turning her around.

She softly placed her hand on top of his and carefully moved his hand down past her heart as their fingers intertwined together. Every part of her body shook, mirroring the state of his body.

She needed to get out. Now. She couldn't do this without completely breaking down.

"I'm fine, I promise," Ginny said softly, "I just…I have to leave," she muttered incomprehensively, before turning around and breaking into a light jog.

_Determined that she was not going to cry, fifteen-year-old Ginny Weasley turned away from her seat and walked in the opposite direction from him. She had to be strong, and the best way to do that was to walk away, because she was not sure how much longer she could control the onset of cold tears that were slowly making their way down the slopes of her warm cheeks. The last thing that Harry needed was to see her tears; he had always seen her as an independent and confident young woman, and until she could find a good hiding place, she needed to keep up that appearance._

_The last few weeks had been like living someone else's life. The threat of war remained but it didn't loom over their heads. She had been deliriously happy with Harry. They had not needed to worry about fighting wars and acting all noble and heroic._

_Yet currently, despite having schooled herself to expect this over and over again, she was hurting. But she had made a promise to herself that she would not impose her feelings on anyone else and would deal with them just like she had done before._

_Ginny threw one last glance towards him over her shoulder before turning past the merpeople and walking towards the other end of the lake._

_She knelt down at the water's edge and let the cold water glide between her fingers, just like she had done when she had come down here with Harry that very first time. A small smile graced her lips as she looked out at the water, remembering her best and worst moments with Harry and this lake. She could recall the hours they had spent after the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match where they would be lost in their animated recounts of the game as well of a variety of other activities hidden from the teachers by the shade of the trees._

_Finding a large oak tree, she positioned her back against its trunk as she sat upon the damp grass. Hugging her knees tightly to her chest as a way of protection, she stared aimlessly at the blue and green tinctures in the lake. She was lost in a myriad of thoughts as she stared out towards the brilliant lake. Closing her eyes, she let her defences down, letting her tears flow freely for the second time that day._

_Ginny tried to stop guilty feelings of self pity at the break up from occupying her mind. The first tears that had been shed were for a great man: a man whom the whole world relied on, a man who was worthy of having a whole lake filled by people's tears. But these new tears, they were just from self-pity. _

_She pulled the edge of the sleeve of her dress robes across her eyes, drying her tears._

_"Ginny?" Luna's voice floated over towards._

_"Hi, Luna," she said automatically without looking up at her friend._

_"You've broken up," Luna stated simply, displaying her uncanny knack for awkward honesty. _

_The sentence hung in the air; they had come to a common understanding over the last couple of years, and she nodded in acknowledgement. "You're very noble, you know, trying to hide your pain from him," she intoned serenely._

_She shrugged her shoulders, "I guess."_

_Luna met Ginny's gaze, her protuberant eyes searching and observing her closely. "But there's no need to worry, you know."_

_Ginny blinked, breaking her friend's gaze before letting her brown eyes meet Luna's blue ones again. "What makes you say that?"_

_"Because you're his Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Luna spoke in a matter of fact tone as she brushed the grass with her hand before sitting down next to Ginny._

_"I don't think I quite get what you mean," Ginny looked at Luna closely, the question displayed on her face as well._

_"Well, everyone knows that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks mate for life," she explained conversationally. "And when they have found each other, they stay together no matter what. It's the same with you and Harry. You'll be back together in no time; you just need to patient, that's all. " _

_Ginny felt a small smile grace her lips and her tears started to ease. Luna believed so many extraordinary things yet she couldn't but hope for the same inside. And there was a very small part of her that thought Luna was making complete sense and saw no need to question that._

_"No matter how nice he was to anyone else who went out with him, he always had his heart set on you. His relationships never worked out just like Michael and Dean never lasted with you. Just wait, you'll be with Harry long after You-Know-Who is gone, you know." _

_"Thanks Luna," she replied softly, "you're a good friend."_

_She could see the smile grow on Luna's face that extended to her eyes._

_Luna was a bit strange at times even if the things she said were not what you wanted to hear. Yet she had a knack for speaking her mind and saying the things you needed to hear instead. Her friends would have done just the opposite; Hermione would have come down and explained that Harry had done the right thing. She already knew that and really didn't want to hear it. Yet Luna had reassured her in a way that no one else would have been able to, gently easing her pain as she spoke._

_Casting her eyes away from the lake, she saw Ron and Hermione talking with Harry. Her smile grew a little. Luna was right, she wasn't what he needed right now, but that didn't mean that she would never be again. He needed his friends most right now, and she had to respect that._

"Ginny," Frankie inquired, breaking through her thoughts.

"What now?" she replied irritably, turning her back on her fellow volunteer. She wanted to be alone and even if she hadn't, the last person she wanted to follow her was Frankie.

Frankie grabbed her hand to spin her around. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ginny glared at her, her insides fuming, her mind desperate to take out her anger on someone. "If you had really wanted to make sure, you would have told me about Harry the second I had arrived at this camp!" Her hand twitched towards her wand. "But it's been over a month, and you've kept your mouth firmly shut!"

"I only found out today," she retorted, hurt shining from her face, "and I came straight to find you."

"Well then, how stupid are you?" Ginny spat, red and gold sparks emitting from her wand as she took it in her hand and held it by her side. She felt a renewed strength come from the eight and half inches of hazel wood fuelled by unicorn hair in her hand. "I mean, who doesn't know what Harry Potter looks like?"

"Well," Frankie started, her own hand reaching for her wand, "just in case you hadn't noticed, we're not all the great Ginny Weasley who knows everything. And besides, Jack doesn't exactly look like Harry Potter of eighteen months ago!"

"It's been four hundred and forty seven days. Not eighteen months," she whispered instantly, in a harsh tone. She paused for a second, before collecting her nerve. As she stared back at Frankie, she fuelled her longing and hurt into anger. "And he may not exactly look the same, but you can tell he's Harry."

A wave of guilt swept over her. She was being irrational but she didn't care. In the morning she may very well have a different reaction after her raw emotions had started to settle, but right now all she cared about were those feelings. She was hurting, and she was going to take her anger out on an easy target, especially on someone whom she didn't like in the slightest.

She raised her wand, pausing before she could cast one of her favourite hexes as she heard a siren blaring around the camp. The deafening noise alerted both women. Ginny tightened her grip around her wand. She itched to help out as the instincts of war took over her body. However, she turned around as she saw Frankie freeze for the briefest of moments.

She saw Coughlan sprinting past them, his old age not hampering any of his movements as a new sense of urgency filled the air. He had his wand held up high in the air, ready for attack. His loose fitting jacket flew behind him as he headed towards the gate at an ever increasing speed. Ginny felt her feet break out into a run, but Frankie grabbed her hand. The other woman pulled her arm, in an effort to spin her round. Ginny nearly lost her balance, as she looked into her fellow volunteer's eyes.

For the first time, Frankie looked scared.

"Ginny," Frankie said quickly, as she appeared to be doing some quick thinking, "when was the last time you saw Neve?"

"Don't know," Ginny replied hesitantly, as she cast her mind back to Jerome's words. "A couple of hours ago. Why?"

"Didn't Jerome say that she had left the camp when he was trying to distract us?" she said, speaking in a quick, urgent voice, as she also raised her wand.

Ginny found herself desperately trying to find answers, but her mind had been fogged with Harry's reappearance. "I'm not sure."

"Okay," her voice seemed more settled, but she was clearly grasping for information. "Where do you usually walk off to?"

"Why do you need to know that?" Ginny questioned, unwilling to let this woman in on her secrets. She adopted a defensive look as she spoke. "What makes that anyone else's business? Why is it so important?"

"When someone goes missing like this, it does become important." Frankie explained in a condescending tone. However, before Ginny was given a chance to snap back at Frankie for her patronising tone, another siren was issued around the camp that made Frankie's body physically shake.

"We need to go. You need to get to the meeting tent; it's not safe to have you by that gate," Frankie said, already turning towards the tent.

"Why? What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Don't you get it?! Someone's just died. He only sounds that on a death."

Ginny blinked, trying to regain her focus and make sense of Frankie's words. Coughlan had mentioned camp deaths on her induction, saying that did happen every once in a while, but she had never expected to see it. The wizarding world was no longer at war, people should not be dying. Her head was spinning; if there had been a death at the camp, there was only one person that it could really be.

A chill ran down her spine. _Neve. _She knew someone had been following her and should have known that Neve would have followed her out of that tent. Why? Why hadn't she stopped Neve from running after her?

"Shit," she whispered to herself as the full reality of the situation hit her.

She may not care that much about her own life but she was responsible for her friend's death. How had this all happened? How could she have let this happen?

Ten minutes later, and she was back in the meeting tent. There was hardly enough room left to breath, let alone move. Whispers circulated around the tent and none of them were of a positive nature.

Ginny shifted on her feet, unwilling to look up. Her mind had been thrown into turmoil with Harry's reappearance, but that had been overshadowed by the very real possibility that she had caused her friend's death.

She was alone at a time when she needed support the most. She was alone, and struggling to cope with the recent events in her life.

She only looked up when she heard the whispers that greeted Coughlan's reappearance. He had a grave look on his face as he made his way through the crowd onto the stage. As he stepped up onto the raised platform and behind the table, she could feel his eyes on her.

A hushed silence fell over the room as Coughlan began to speak. There was no doubting his power, even without raised voices or spells. He only had to open his mouth for a silence to fall on all those in his presence.

"I am sure that the tragic news has met all of you by now," he said, his voice very sombre. "I regret to inform you that one of our volunteers lost her life today."

No one stirred as the news sunk in. Coughlan paused, continuing slowly.

"Over the years, Neve Corr had seen it all: death, misery, and pain of not only this country but of many others. The strength and courage with which she worked was no doubt the reason behind her popularity as a volunteer. Neve was dynamic, motivated, and dedicated. A good friend to all that met her. She always believed in the cause she was fighting for, often taking the right options instead of the easy ones.

"She was an outstanding volunteer, whose legacy will not be forgotten by those who knew her or those who knew of her and her tragic death serves as a harsh reminder to everyone in this room of the price of humanity. If this country were safe, then there would be no need for our camp or our jobs. Yet while, we should not run from danger, to show a lack of care of the dangerous position we live our lives in. Each moment in our lives is precious and you all perform an important role in restoring faith in wizarding kind, yet at each of those moments we are not far away from our own humanity with the dangerous we face.

"I will do everything in my power to investigate what occurred this afternoon and bring the appropriate people to justice. However, in the meantime, I must stress the importance of the lessons that need to be learnt from this tragedy. There are rules in place for our protection and now more than ever, it is important that we follow them. Death Eaters outside these walls have no respect for life, but we must show them what we can do and what we are capable of. We must show them that their hateful crimes cannot dictate the lives of others. In order to accomplish this, we need to function efficiently and as a united camp."

A shiver ran down Ginny's spine as she listened to Coughlan's words, well aware that many of them had been directed towards her. Throughout his speech, many people had turned to look at her, well aware of her role and guilt.

Ginny turned and headed for the exit. She quickly made her way through the masses of people, without a care as to whom she was knocking into.

No more.

She could not deal with all this any longer.

She was desperate for that escape and was going to get it in one form or another.

"Miss Weasley," a strong hand fell on her shoulder and glided down the centre of her back, directing her movements, "may I have a word?"

Before she had a chance to respond, she felt herself being guided through the tent, people quickly parting to the side as they reached the exit. Although neither of them had spoken, she knew where she was going and why Coughlan was removing her from the masses.

She didn't need Coughlan to tell her that she was at fault; that she was the guilty party here. She had come to that conclusion long before.

Maybe Harry was back in her life, but that had not stopped her life from being a mess. In fact it had only added to the chaotic mess in her head. Her whole life was thrown into turmoil, and she was not sure if she had the strength to battle it. She had never felt at such a loss of what to do. If she couldn't make those decisions about herself, then how could she make them for other people? What was her purpose here anyway?

Ginny's head was spinning. She was physically exhausted; her whole body felt drained of energy. Her mind was tired, and she was mentally exhausted. She was completely drained and her life was in a right royal mess.

An hour ago, Harry's reappearance had clouded her thoughts, reawakening memories of him, bringing her much hurt and pain. But now she was responsible for a friend's death. How could she be trusted with other people's lives and the responsibility of being a volunteer if she couldn't even keep an eye out for a friend?

She should be sacked. She was about to have the book thrown at her and she deserved every one of those words and actions Coughlan decided to take. Maybe that's why Coughlan had called her in here - to sack her. She could hardly blame him if he did, but she was not sure whether her emotions could take another blow. Maybe quitting before she was pushed would be a better option.

If only she had someone to tell her what to do, to ease the pressures placed upon her, to end her state of confusion and exhaustion.

Her mum had been right, she wasn't ready for this!

She looked at Coughlan's face, trying to search for some kind of answer. His eyes were unmoving as he seemed to be studying her face, weighing up several options in his mind. She cast her eyes downward, unwilling to let someone read her mind. Her mind was a dangerous place even for her, much less anyone else.

It seemed an eternity had passed when he finally met her eyes. "If you are thinking of leaving, Miss Weasley, then I don't mind telling you that the last thing I want you to do is quit." He spoke in a soft yet powerful voice.

"Excuse me?" she questioned, more than a little confused. She had just caused the death of another volunteer, who was a highly likeable woman whom no one had a bad word for. She had expected him to be fuming, to fire her.

She looked down. "Neve's death was entirely my fault. I shouldn't still be here, I should…"

"Please sit down, and I will explain." Coughlan took his own seat and gestured to her to do the same. He waited until she had taken the seat on the other side of the desk opposite him, before he started to speak again. "Good volunteers are hard to come by as I'm sure you've seen."

Ginny looked down, positive that she did not deserve the high praise that she was receiving. "Which has led me to several problems. You have a certain disregard for rules and protocol and your kamikaze actions partially led to the death of another volunteer. There is no denying that and I do not agree in sugar coating guilty and irresponsible actions.

"Nevertheless, Ms Corr knew the risk she was taking as much, if not more, than you did, so I do not feel that we should place all the blame on your shoulders. Remorse yes, but blame no.

"You cannot force people to do things that they do not wish to do solely because you want things to work out differently." He paused for the briefest of seconds to add weight to his words. "You have no more guilt over this matter than I do, Ginny. You could never have prevented Neve from following you, just like I am incapable of stopping you from leaving this camp."

"I guess," she started, "but…"

"But nothing." Coughlan said firmly. "I had kept a very close eye on you in the past month and seen the work you've done and the feats you've accomplished while working with us here. Many former Order of the Phoenix members possess commitment, passion, and an element of self sacrifice, but very few have such a natural ability to lift people. I am reluctant to lose anyone who retains such qualities, Miss Weasley, having lost one volunteer with those gifts today."

For the first time, he looked old and exhausted, the events of the day clearly taking their toll on him, as he offered her the smallest of smiles. "I may be selfish in these actions, but I always work in this camp's best interest and will do anything it takes to make sure it runs successfully. You have just learnt a very harsh lesson, a lesson that I am sure you will remember for the rest of your life."

She looked down, nodding her head, letting the words sink in. While she was happy that he didn't want her to leave, she was positive that she did not deserve the praise. Yet if he had that level of belief in her, she was not going to let him down.

"Well, that is good enough for me," he replied in a tone of voice that suggested that everything was settled. "Instead of accepting your registration, I would like you to go home and think about this and about everything that has happened since your arrival. Go back and talk to your family, instead of running away from them and your feelings, then come back in a couple of weeks. Then, and only then, after everything has settled down and you have sorted things out in your mind, come back and talk to me, and I will reconsider your resignation."

"Thank you," she said a whisper, grateful for the extra time.

Coughlan gave her a brief smile of acknowledgment, before adopting his business like manner. "I will arrange for a Portkey for you in an hour's time from here," he said as he turned to the piles of papers on his desk. "I do not think that we need to create much hype nor do I think Apparating in your current condition is advisable."

It took her very little time to gather her possessions together and say the few goodbyes that she needed to. She knew that Coughlan was right when he had said that she needed time and she couldn't have been more grateful to the camp leader for showing her this option. As each moment passed, she yearned to be free from this burden that was constantly looming over her.

Seeing Harry again after so long had shaken her to her very core. After wanting him for so long, she had no idea what to do, especially with his reaction. In all her hopes that he was out there, she had never once played out this scenario in her mind.

Harry was alive, but he did not know who she was and with her only friend in the camp now gone, she had no one to reassure her that everything would be okay. No one that could ease her concerns and tell her that Harry indeed was her Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Perhaps a few weeks alone would give her the time to think about the situation before she made any rash decisions, like she was so prone to do. If Harry had been gone this long, she could wait a few weeks for him to recognise her; but at the same time, she didn't have the courage nor the heart to face that rejection on a daily basis.

"Ginny?"

She looked up and saw Frankie heading towards her. For the first time in weeks, she felt none of her normal bitterness towards her colleague. She did not have any energy left in her to hate the brunette and she had much more important things on her mind than continuing a petty feud.

"Hey," she replied, softly.

"I heard what happened. I guess…" Frankie shifted uneasily on her feet and fidgeted with the belt loops on her jeans. She was clearly equally upset with the day's events and unsure of what to do next. "I just wanted to check that you were coming back. You may be a drama queen but, we kind of need you here."

Ginny offered her a soft smile, "I should be back. After all, I can't leave you here alone with Harry, can I?"

"I guess not," Frankie said, returning the smile as she shrugged her shoulders a little. "Do you need any help?"

Her automatic response had been to refuse the offer and turn away. But whether she liked it or not, something had changed in their relationship over the course of the day. They had both lost things very important to them, and now they needed each other, and after all Frankie was her best way to connect with Harry.

Slowly Ginny reached towards her neck and undid the clasp on her necklace. It dangled down from her hand as she held it in front of her eyes, taking one final look at it. Carefully she placed the necklace in Frankie's hand and watched as the other woman closed her fingers over her treasured pendant.

"Can you give this to Harry?"

As she got to her feet, Frankie offered her a smile as she left the tent. It felt as if the weight of the mounting tension, stress, and pain over the last couple of years was finally starting to lift.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Longing

It had been a very slow week at camp; every action, thought, and movement seemed to take much longer than it should have. Days seemed an eternity as the hours dragged and a sense of gloom blanketed the entire place. The life of the camp seemed to have dissipated the minute that Ginny Weasley had walked through those gates. The feeling had only worsened as many people felt part of their hearts had been buried at the same private funeral on Tuesday.

The simple fact was that the camp was in mourning. Since Neve's death, it had become even clearer how popular she was among the people. They not only lost a friend but also, the feeling of safety they had while Neve was around. Now with the confirmation of Ginny's disappearance, it was like a double blow to the camp residents. Harry, like the others, was in shock.

When Ginny had arrived at the camp, she had brought a ray of light to people's lives; she had banished the darkness from their lives and gave them a reason to hope, to live for the future. She was a heroine of the last war. She was deemed to be flawless by so many people but the reality was that she was simply a heartbroken teenager who had made mistakes. She was never the perfect image they had believed to be true and that had come as a shock to many. Then, in the height of all the chaos, she had left, or even worse, been sacked.

As Frankie had said to Harry after Ginny's departure, it was a good thing that we did not meet our heroes, because if we did, we would find out that they were simply human beings like the rest of us. They had the same desires, they wanted to be loved, and they made mistakes. That shattered illusions and broke people's dreams when the realisation that heroes were just like anyone else was revealed.

The same hopes that had collected over the last three months had ebbed away. It was amazing how quickly a single action could make all those hopes disappear.

As Harry pulled on his red t-shirt and a pair of tattered and faded jeans, he realised that he had been as guilty as everyone else of moping around, instead of doing something practical. Instead of trying to focus on moving on and examining his new memories for clues pertaining to his past, at first he had been filled with a longing for things to return to normal. However, within a few hours of those original thoughts he had found that the sense of longing he had had for so many months had now changed. He found that his overriding desire to find his own identity had been replaced by one to spend every spare minute with Ginny Weasley. Something in his heart was telling him that everything would be okay as long as she was standing by his side.

He silently cursed himself. Why couldn't he have felt like this that week when she was desperate to hear it? Why did it take her departure from the camp for him to realise what she meant to him.

Harry strode through the camp with a new sense of purpose. He was sick of waiting for things to happen. He was Harry Potter, and if everything he had worked out from those final memories was true, he was not going to sit around in his tent. He was going to make things happen instead, by trying to find the answers and get her back.

If all the reports printed in the aftermath of the war were true, he would be incomplete without Ginny Weasley. In some publications printed it stated that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley were incomplete without each other and he was starting to think that every statement he had read along those lines was true.

Quite simply, he was Harry Potter, and Harry Potter belonged with Ginny Weasley.

He weaved his way through the camp and arrived at Frankie's tent. The fun atmosphere that used to surround it and captivate people's minds, had completely disappeared. If the camp was in mourning, then this tent was in nothing less than a state of depression.

The two empty trunks and bunk that remained in the room were a reminder of everything that had happened in the last seven days. Despite the fact that there were five people gathered in the small area, the place was silent. Instead of the radio blasting music at full volume and the loud, lively conversations that took place, the tent now felt like a morgue. The four volunteers were all cut off in their own little worlds.

Deon and Curtis were silent as the two read a book and the day's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ respectively on their individual beds. Jerome was at the table going through piles of papers, with, unless Harry was very mistaken, a small smirk on his face. All the while, Frankie was lying on her bunk gazing aimlessly at the roof of the tent.

It was strange to see her so isolated and quiet. He was so used to her buzzing around the camp. He was used witnessing a range of emotions from, her which were always expressed in a confident fashion. Hearing her voice as anyone entered a room and seeing her smile beam and light up a room were things that would make his heart leap. He knew the past week's events had shaken her to her core, and with him moping in his own tent, she had been left to deal with everything alone. However, despite all this, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved at seeing his friend this way.

Silence did not suit her.

"Frankie?" Harry said in a soft voice that carried across the still air.

His voice broke the silence of the room. Frankie broke out from her daze at her name but Jerome stopped what he was doing. He stared at Harry as he quickly moved all his papers into a hasty pile so that Harry could not see them. As Harry glanced over suspiciously at Coughlan's golden boy and then at the top piece on the pile, Jerome moved the messy pile into a folder.

"What do you want?" Jerome hissed as he raised his wand to the folder and magically sealed it.

Harry had the renewed feeling that Jerome was hiding something. His gut instinct told him that if he worked out what the pile of papers said, the whole mess of the camp would start to unravel but he didn't have time to worry about that now.

"Frankie?" He questioned again, ignoring the former Slytherin.

"Yeah," she said as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

Ignoring Jerome's glare, he focused his attention solely on his friend. "Do you want to go out for a walk, get some air, and talk about things?"

"Okay," Frankie replied without too much enthusiasm, as she swung her legs around and over the rail. "I guess. It will be good to get out of here for a bit."

Frankie landed on the ground with a certain level of grace that very few could muster. After she steadied herself, she scooped down into her trunk and quickly grabbed a green hooded sweatshirt to protect her from the cool winter air. She gathered her brown hair into a ponytail to stop it from getting into her eyes.

"You ready?"

"Almost," she replied as she rummaged through the bottom of her trunk, pulling out a small box and slipping it into her pocket. "Okay, let's go."

They made their way out of the tent and through the camp in silence. They soon reached the gates where everything had unfolded last Saturday afternoon. Harry offered her a small nod, before using his wand to open the gates.

"I want to be away from prying eyes."

"I get that," she said with a small nod.

Frankie hesitated slightly before following him out the gates. There was a Death Eater on the loose who had no qualms about murdering innocent people. Harry knew that Frankie had no experience against Voldemort's men, having never fought in a war. Neve's death had brought out the fragile nature of life and the perilous position they were living in. Harry, however, had an improved confidence; he had faced a lot more than Death Eaters in his life and even though he did not remember it, he felt confidant in his knowledge that he had beaten them. If he met one, he was sure his instincts would take over and he would relish the opportunities to fight them which would hopefully also unleash some of the blocks on his memory.

Harry led his friend a few feet away from the gate. They found themselves walking alone through the muddy track before he stopped by a grassy bank and sat down on the soft ground. He gestured to Frankie to do the same. She sat down next to him and offered him a small smile. It was a smile that he would have found irresistible a week ago but today, all of his thoughts were focused on Ginny Weasley.

"So, I'm Harry Potter," he said softly, trying to both lighten the mood and find out everything he needed to know.

"Yeah." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"It's pretty amazing, huh?" he offered her a small shrug, as he gave her a brief smile. "I mean, I've done all these things, but I have no memory of them, just a bunch of broken fragments. You'd think vanquishing Voldemort would be something I'd remember."

Frankie shuddered at the mention of the name, but managed to give him a weak smile. "You'd think."

"And more importantly, you'd think that I'd remember her."

"To be fair, you were drooling from the day she got here and as soon as you saw her, those memories started to come back." Frankie explained softly. "So you really shouldn't be too hard on yourself." She studied his face. "You want to get her back."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I need her back," He said, pausing for a couple of seconds, allowing himself to collect his thoughts. "She was such a huge part of my life that I can't help but feel drawn to her. I find myself longing to remember the little things that made Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley so special, and not just the things I've read in the clippings. I'm longing to know those little things that make her who she is. I want to be worthy of her when I get her back, or at the very least, to have some memories of her to draw on." He offered her a hopeful smile. "You lived with her for three months, tell me about her."

Frankie gave him a small shrug, "I'm not sure what I can say. I didn't know her very well. She pretty much kept to herself, and I wasn't exactly the person she turned to when she wanted to open up." She let out a long, deep breath as she saw the look of longing in his eyes. "But, I guess, I can at least try to help somehow." She paused again, letting out another long breath. "Well there's the stuff everyone knows. She's a Weasley, and they are a very important family especially after the war. Her twin brothers are known world wide."

"Fred and George?" He questioned automatically.

"That's right," her smile grew. "According to the reports, Ginny herself is very intelligent. She got almost straight O's in her OWLs with couple of E's. Her NEWTs weren't quite as good, but despite everything, she moved past them all. She's an exceptional Quidditch player, but you've probably read that in the Prophet, so I'm guessing that this isn't really the stuff you want to know, right?"

"She played as a Chaser, right?" he said automatically, not sure why he knew that fact.

"I think so; I never really spoke to her about it."

He smiled. It was amazing how talking to someone could bring back fragments of memories. "I used to get hit by so many Bludgers in practices."

Frankie let out a warm laugh. "I can imagine that happening." Her face lit up, her confidence returning. "The one thing I do know, Harry," she paused as she pulled a small box out of her pocket, "is that she really loved you. You could see it in her eyes. You could hear it in the dark at night, in the silence of the tent… you could hear her tears. She never gave up on you, not once, despite everyone thinking she was mad."

She placed the small box in his hand. "And you shouldn't give up on her either."

Harry opened the small box. His heart buoyed as he saw the delicate necklace. "This was my mum's." he said reverently.

"I didn't know."

"Why would you?" He gulped, trying to stop emotions from overtaking him. "I think I'm going to take a minute alone. Do you want me to walk you back to camp?"

"No, I'll be okay," she said as she got to her feet.

"Are you sure? I mean after what happened to Neve, I should at least see you to the gates." He offered an argument.

"I'll be fine," she insisted more forcibly, "I'm not a little girl, I'll have my wand out at all times; besides you have more important things to do." She turned away before she looked back over her shoulder at him. "Where are you going to be?"

"I'm going back to Little Hangleton," he said warily; he still wasn't sure about any of this.

"I'll be fine," she repeated looking at him straight in the eyes, "so stop being noble and go do what you have to. Just one small thing."

"What is it?" he asked instantly.

"Be careful, Harry."

He offered her a smile as he got to his feet. "I will."

The shade of the trees directed his route as his kept walking until he reached the signpost. Looking up briefly at it, he turned left and down towards a road that led to the old manor house. He felt that he was being pulled over to the old building. He knew this spot very clearly from his nightly torments. A bundle of nerves grew in his stomach; this was where everything had ended. He reached the point where it had taken place. This was the destination of Ginny's frequent trips and the place where his final memories lay.

Resting his back against a tall rock, he shifted his gaze towards the alley. His hand moved to the silver necklace that lay inside the box, the diamond encrusted pendant sparkling in the autumn light as it hung on the delicate white gold chain.

_Harry passed through the doors of the Hogwarts castle. He had tried to delay coming to see her since the attack, unable to bear the sight of what the Death Eaters had done to her. He had gone straight to the hospital wing with her after the attack, carrying her into the room. But then as Madam Pomfrey had started to work her magic, he had disappeared. He did not want to see her looking helpless. The Ginny he loved was a strong and confident woman and anything but helpless. He did not want to relive the worst moment of his life and see her looking like she had on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. _

_It had taken five days of pressure from Hermione for him to return._

_This is what he had been afraid of: that she would get hurt; that he would be forced to attend her funeral. He wasn't strong enough for that. When he died, whether it be sooner or later, and he very much hoped for later, he wanted the memory of her smiling. He wanted to hear her warm laughs, to feel her kisses run through every inch of his body. He wanted a lifetime of happy memories, not enforced angst that ended with a premature death._

_When he arrived at the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had told him that Ginny had already been released. Without stopping or saying anything, he had left, heading towards the grounds of the castle to the only place where she could have gone._

_Harry headed across the grounds, letting his feet carry him without any thought as to where he was heading. His heart knew where she would be. It was almost as if his heart had a string pulling him towards her and despite their time apart this year, they were still so closely connected. _

_As he reached the lake, his movements slowed down. There she was, her red hair glowing in the sunlight, a beacon that drew him closer to her. She looked so alone as she stared out at the lake. Yet despite the fragile state of her petite body, power radiated from her._

_"Ginny," he said softly._

_"Hi, Harry," she said, turning her head to look at him._

_"Are you okay?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine."_

_A huge rush of relief filled his heart. He had been so scared that there would be some lasting damage. Not everyone who faced Death Eaters survived to tell the tale, and if the more times you encountered Voldemort's followers the greater the risk, well… Ginny had been fighting Death Eaters since she was fourteen._

_"You gave me a scare back there," he explained as he made his way closer to her._

_"Looks like I scared a lot of people," she said with a small smile. "Mum's been lecturing me for three days straight."_

_Harry laughed. "Did you expect anything different?"_

_"No," Ginny said softly as she gestured to him to join her on the ground. She waited until he sat down before she started speaking again. "I've missed not being able to help out though. I've hated being a sitting duck, unable to do anything but read the newspapers." She took his hand in hers. "All this time to think has made be realise one thing though."_

_"What is it?" he asked, positive that if she was feeling anything like he was, he already knew the answer._

_"I've missed not spending time with you. I find myself longing to be at your side." Her soft voice made him feel warm inside. "I know the reason for that. It's not just because I want to help. Don't get me wrong; I'm desperate to fight, and I know I deserve to be in this battle. The reason I want to be next to you every single day for the rest of my life is because I love you."_

_"I love you as well, Ginny." He had said those words so many times to the Ginny that had captured his dreams and thoughts since he had left her at The Burrow. The words had come out so easily. "But that doesn't change anything."_

_She glared at him. "No, Harry, these words change everything. Isn't that what Dumbledore used to say? Isn't that the thing that Voldemort is scared of? Isn't that the thing that will help you win this?"_

_He paused as he tried to think of an argument that would work; an argument that would convince her to leave him alone so that she wouldn't be risking her life by joining him._

_"It's not safe, Ginny, you know you could get hurt again and I couldn't let that happen."_

_"Didn't I get hurt anyway?" she spoke in a determined voice. "Whether you like it or not, I'm as much of a target sitting in lessons as I would be by your side."_

_"You can't Apparate," he said, grasping to his last possible objection._

_"That's only a matter of time," she replied quickly._

_"Ginny."_

_She raised her eyebrows and kept up the defiant tone in her voice, "Harry."_

_"I'm not going to win this, am I?"_

_Softly she shook her head. "Once I've learned to Apparate, I'm setting out to fight. I'm going to be part of this battle; the only thing that is up to you is whether I'm at your side or doing this with Luna and Neville on my own."_

A smile formed on his lips. He had been waiting for this moment for well over a year. It was amazing after waiting for so long, how quickly this memory had returned to him.

Maybe it was just a case of knowing exactly what he was longing to know. Maybe it was a case of realizing what he was missing. Maybe it was just returning to that place that had prompted this but right now, he couldn't care less about examining the trail of memories. He was not going to sit around camp wanting things to happen; he was going to get his life back.

Instantly, Harry knew what he had to do.

He was going to get her back, even if it was the last thing he did and he knew that after all the pain she had been through, she would want the same thing. After all, if anyone deserved happiness, shouldn't it be the people who had already sacrificed so much. If he could fight against evil, he could definitely fight for love.

Harry got to his feet as soon as his senses returned. He was going to get his things from his tent and then visit Coughlan to ask for the Weasley family address. He was going to do whatever it took to get those memories back. He retraced his steps to the camp gates, focusing solely on the return to camp, ignoring anything else but the road in front of him. The pace of his movements increased with every second.

He had already wasted too much time.

As he got near camp, a flash of red hair made him come to a sudden halt. He shook his head; she couldn't possibly have come back. He started taking long, purposeful strides towards the gates. When he was a mere fifty yards from the gates, he realised his mistake.

"Ron?"

His best friend turned around. As Harry got closer, he found that Ron's eyes had widened in shock and his mouth had dropped a little.

"It can't be," he whispered in denial.

"Ron?"

"No wonder she's been in floods of tears."

"Ginny's been crying?" Harry asked, feeling a mixture of sadness that she was hurting and happiness that she was missing him. He couldn't help but feel guilty at the thought.

"Yeah," he muttered, "Harry, is that really you?"

"Yeah, it's me," Harry replied.

"Then why the hell are you here?" Ron queried.

"Well," he started, wondering how to answer the question, or even what to say in response.

A deafening noise filled the silence that had been brought on by Ron's questions. Alerted by the camp alarm, Harry cast his eyes into the sky. The Dark Mark was once again hanging in what seemed to be the same spot that it had been just seven days ago. A chill ran down his spine.

He was the one who had encouraged her to walk out of the camp with him, even after she had hesitated. He was the one who had walked out and left her alone to walk to that old house.

Harry turned his back his friend and headed towards the Dark Mark. He couldn't leave anyone out there on his own, but if it was the smallest chance that it could be her, then he couldn't stay here.

"Harry?" Ron called after him. "What are you doing? Where the bloody hell are you going?"

"To that mark," he replied without turning around as he gestured into the air. "I have to find Frankie."

"Frankie?" Ron spluttered as he caught up with him. He was clearly both out of breath and struggling to come to terms with everything he had just experienced in the last ten minutes. "The same Frankie that's in Ginny letters?"

"She's in trouble, Ron."

Harry turned the corner and cast his eyes down from the Dark Mark to the dark figure that stood over the body of a young woman with brown hair.

"YOU!" Harry exclaimed.

Why had he dismissed all those thoughts earlier? He had known something was wrong but he had just dismissed it all, putting it on the back burner for later. Why had he been so selfish? Why couldn't he have given a second for the person who had helped him piece everything together?

"It's not what you think," the former Slytherin replied. "I just found her. We need to get help."


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine:Home

_Author's Note: This is a Ginny focused chapter and picks up from her perspective of the events of the end of chapter seven, for easier reader, I suggest that you go back and read the end of that chapter._

Ginny's whole body shook as the Portkey landed her just outside the gates to The Burrow garden. She knew that this was where she should be and Coughlan was right. At this time she could do no more for the camp, not until she had sorted everything out. The only place she could do that was here. Right now, she needed her family more than ever. Yet despite all that, there was the huge problem of what to do and say, which was making her more than a little apprehensive about entering the place that should make her feel safe and loved.

What should she say to everyone?

How could she admit what a failure that she had become?

What would they do when they found out that she had played a large part in someone else death? That some people with just cause would even deem her solely responsible for Neve's death.

How did she admit to people that she had deserted Harry at the time he had needed her the most?

She was the one person who never should have left his side; the one person who had promised never to leave him; the one person who had sworn that she loved him with every bone in her body. Yet she had destroyed all that now. She may have left that camp less than ten minutes ago but she already knew that she had made the biggest mistake of her life. The problem was that she did not know how to put it right.

Letting out a few deep breaths she held onto the gate to The Burrow garden for support; support that she was not sure she would get after they found out everything she had done. This was so overwhelming. How could her life have changed so quickly? In the space of two hours she had helped be responsible for her friend's death and run away from the person she loved.

She shook her head. No, this had started a long time ago. She had made mistake after mistake since she had turned down Harry's proposal, four hundred and forty seven days ago.

Gulping, she hitched her rucksack further up her shoulder. Tears flowing freely, she turned her back on her home. She wasn't worthy of any of them after everything she'd done. She was far from the heroine the newspapers had initially described and as some of the rest of the world deemed her to be. She wasn't even sure right now she deserved to be a member of the Weasley family.

She would be far better off on her own; then she would stop hurting people.

Ginny glanced once again at The Burrow and turned her back on her childhood home. She turned to walk away from everything she had ever known. She would always go to the river as an escape from home, just like she would always go to the lake at Hogwarts. Once she got to that river today she would have calmed down, and then she could Apparate without splinching herself and, she thought hopefully, just disappear.

She swore under her breath as she heard a small popping noise. She slowly turned around to see a red haired man appear in front of her. If she was going to get lost to the fabric of society, then the last thing she needed was one of her brothers to turn up.

"Ginny," Ron's voice called over to her, "what are you doing here?" he waited for a minute for is response but his words were met with silence. "Where are you going?"

Many people had said her brother did not understand emotions but those people failed to understand the real Ronald Weasley or to look deeply into his eyes. His eyes told everything and right now she could see he was worried for her; scared about her actions and maybe even her sanity.

"Don't know," she replied with a small shrug, she had every intention of saying as few words as possible and getting out of there as quickly as possible.

She had always had a very close and fiery relationship with Ron even before you added the fact Ron was Harry's best friend. There was no way that she could explain all this to Ron and make him be okay with her actions--not that he _should_ be okay with what she had done.

Ron stared at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones. He was not going to let her shrug off the topic so easily. She wouldn't have expected him to but that hardly helped the situation.

What could she possibly say to Ron?

How could she explain everything that had happened?

How could she tell him about Neve?

How could she tell her brother that after all this time his best friend was alive?

How could she explain that she had left him alone?

Her natural ability to lie seemed to have disappeared into thin air along with many other things she had been good at. She used to be able to twist the truth so easily at any whim. It had got her out or so many problems, yet now when she needed her slippery gift the most, it had deserted her, just as she had done to Harry. She could lie that the sky was bright yellow and get away with it as long as she had the right motivation. Yet today, that was just not going to work.

She was utterly useless at everything!

"Well, let's go in then." Ron said as he placed his strong hand on her shoulder and directed her movements, just like Coughlan had done hours before. "Mum's desperate to see you, especially since your owls home aren't exactly regular or full of details. Plus Hermione is coming over later, and I'm sure she'll have millions of questions for you."

"Okay then," she said with a small shrug

She watched as Ron slowly turned towards the house, before mirroring his actions but instead of turning towards The Burrow, she faced the mud track leading to their family home. She couldn't help but let a small guilty smile emerge on her face as her ability to trick her brother came into force again. With a small shrug of her shoulders, Ron's hand fell and she seized her chance. The smile, however, faded as quickly as it had come.

Ron's reactions were quick as his own instincts took over, as if he had anticipated her movements. The small glimmer of hope of escaping faded as her movements took an eternity. It was as if someone had slowed down her every action. Ron grasped at the air for a less than a millisecond, before he caught her wrist.

Using all the strength she could muster, she pulled away, trying to break into a run. Yet Ron held firm, unmoving, leaving the only consequence of her actions a marked and throbbing wrist. Spinning back round to face her brother, she could feel tears welling in her eyes and her other hand shot to her jean pocket. Before she could clasp her wand, Ron was holding both her wrists in his strong hands.

"Get off me," she spat, her voice carrying a level of desperation that she had never heard before and hated from the second those words escaped her mouth.

Ron stood still for a second as she threw her captured hands against his chest. As her hands hit his torso, Ron shook his head, and pulled her closer to him. Keeping a strong hold of his little sister, he whispered softly, "You're not going anywhere."

He kept a tight hold of her as she let her frustrations out by kicking and hitting his body. They stood on the very spot, her energy draining with each second, until Ron was confident that she was in no fit state to run. As her movements slowed, he finally loosened his grip and directed her through the garden and towards the door to The Burrow's kitchen.

"Mum," Ron called as he let go of her for the briefest second and flung open the door to the kitchen. Without giving her a second to think and making sure he was blocking her escape route, Ron pushed her into the house making her stumble across the threshold, "You'll never guess who I've found."

"GINNY!" Molly Weasley dropped the mug she was holding and let china and hot liquid splatter across the floor as she rushed over to her, "Oh, Ginny."

She let her mother pull her into a large hug and although she just stopped there, not returning any of the affection, Molly used this as the cue to continue to keep a tight hold of her little girl. Releasing her grip after what was only minutes, but seemed like hours to Ginny, Molly held onto her daughter's arms as she studied her worn face and exhausted body.

"You're all skin and bones," she commented, to which Ginny offered a small shrug. She knew this once her mother was not exaggerating. "Have you been eating?" Molly continued as Ginny offered her a meek nod. "And sleeping?" was met with another shrug, "I knew that camp was not a good idea, but at least you're home now."

"I guess," she said softly.

"How long are you back for?" Molly asked as she got ready to fire her next round of questions at her youngest child.

Now she had her daughter, the child she was most worried about, she was not going to let go of her. At least not until she was confident that she was going to be okay, and that was still a long way off as both of them knew only too well. Ginny could feel a long period of mollycoddling ahead of her unless she could think of a way to change it.

"A while," she replied. She couldn't stand any of this. She didn't deserve any of this love and support. "I'm going to go and have bath before dinner, if that's okay," she said using the first excuse to get out of there that she could think of. "I feel covered in muck."

"Of course it's okay, but don't be too long, there's so much we need to talk about." Molly said but she had already taken her cue to leave, and she let her mother's voice follow her up the stairs before locking herself in the bathroom on the first floor.

She let her beaten body soak into the warm water, that provided a sanctuary from everything that had happened. Here she was free and alone to let her emotions flow into the bath waters. She lowered her body further in so that every part of her was engulfed in the water, preventing her from hearing her mother's calls from downstairs. She wished she could stay there, safe from everything else forever. She held her breath, more than a little tempted not to lift her head out of the water but in the end leaving it until the last possible second to emerge. When she lifted her head out the water she could feel a mixture of tears and bath water over her face.

For the next week, apart from enforced meals, that she could not avoid despite how hard she tried, she had stayed in her room, not sleeping, or under the old oak tree by The Burrow, staring into thin air. She did not want to socialise with anyone until she could think of a way to escape, but her mother had kept humming around her, staying annoying close to her at all times.

Her mornings had descended into her old ritual. She would wait sitting on the stairs that joined the first floor to the kitchen. She would stay there until most of the noise had disappeared before heading down to pick up some food before heading outside and dwelling on the wreck she had let her life sink to. It seemed like she had spent a lifetime sitting on these stairs in the last week.

When she was younger, she had used to sit on the top stair and listen to whatever conversation she had been deemed too young to take part in. Instead of being shut in her room as she should have been, the stairs had provided a tunnel of noise that had made her aware of everything that was taking place. For the last twenty-one months, these stairs had proved to be her best clue on whether it was safe to escape her family's clutches without the Spanish Inquisition. If she could hear a pin drop, she knew it was safe to descend from the upper floors of The Burrow but if she could hear echoes of conversations in the kitchen wafting up the stairs, she knew that there would be enough people around to fire questions at her, so she held her position on the stair or drifted back into her room.

Today the conversation between her parents seemed much more heated than normal. She felt their tense voices drawing her down the stairs to explain everything, but she forced back all her natural instincts and hung back where she was to listen undetected.

"Molly, dear," Arthur said softly.

"Yes," her mother's normally caring voice snapped, a marked testament to the frustrations in the Weasley family home. She paused briefly before she added quickly, "I'm sorry."

"There's been another Rita Skeeter article," his voice sounded like it was on the verge of breaking, "in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning."

A shudder ran down Ginny's spine. In the week that she had been home she had spoken very little to her family, especially her parents. Not knowing what to say, she had just answered questions that she couldn't avoid and gave away very little information about what had happened in the last three months.

This had left her parents increasingly worried as they had been left with only small fragments of what had taken place. They just knew the simple facts, the ones that everyone in the Wizarding word knew: that there had been a murder of a Red Cross Volunteer just outside the camp and that after this she had chosen to take a break from her work or had been asked to. Yet despite the lack of information that she had offered, her parents seemed to have worked out a lot for themselves, helped by the articles that occupied the front pages of the _Daily Prophet_.

"What is it saying this time?" Molly asked in a tense voice that was clearly resigned to accepting the worst.

"That Ginny was responsible for the death." She could hear his voice shaking with anger and disgust. "That she was breaking the camp rules left, right and centre and by doing this she was putting everyone at risk."

"I know she has little respect for rules that she doesn't see the point of but she's not stupid, Arthur, and she is far from naïve." She spoke in a would-be confident voice. "She knows the value of life and she is not going to risk her own and other people's lives."

"Are you sure about that anymore?" her father questioned, doubt ringing throughout his words. "I very much doubt that she would do something that would deliberately endanger someone, but I do believe that she is not putting too much thought into her actions and their consequences. As much as it pains me, I think that it is very believable that she would walk out of that camp to go to Little Hangleton and it hardly stretches the imagination to say that that Corr girl followed her." He let out a large sigh. "I think for once the _Prophet_ may have got things right, even if they twist things to meet their views, especially with that interview with the unnamed volunteer claiming that she has gone insane."

"When is this all going to stop?" She could hear the tears in her mother's exasperated voice. There was a slight pause that followed the question as her dad seemed to hush her mum's tears before she continued. "When am I going to get my little girl back? When can I tell her that all the pain is going to go away and that all this will be over soon? How can she live her life if they continue to dwell on all this on a daily basis? How can we offer her anything that will help her shattered state?"

"I don't know, Molly, dear." He admitted in a resigned tone. "Things were so much easier when she was younger. If she fell over you could kiss her knee and make it better, but this is going to take so much more. Now that they have got their teeth into her, I'm not sure that they will ever stop. As much as we hate it, this type of coverage sells papers and you know what the press are like, especially since Harry's death. Ginny is the only one who can keep Harry on the front page now and they will do that, no matter how much it's destroying an innocent and fragile teenage girl."

This was too much.

She could feel her body physically shaking on the stairs, this all felt so wrong. She was so far removed from the innocent party in all of this. Yet there was a much more important issue that her parents' words had raised than her state of mind. She couldn't let them sit there any longer and mourn their honorary seventh son when he was alive. She could not let people keep thinking that Harry Potter was dead. After what had happened at the camp, there was no way that this was all going to stay quiet for much longer, and surely her parents deserved to hear this bit of news from her and not read a distorted version of it in the _Daily Prophet_.

Ginny got to her feet to head down the stairs, only to pause as her father's new words greeted her and made her feel worse than the lowest dregs in society.

"At least we'll know more what we are dealing with when Ron gets back from camp." Guilt swam through every inch of her body. "And then we will do whatever it takes, just like we've always done."

Ginny held onto the rail as these words sung in, in order to stop herself from falling down the stairs. Tightening her grip on the banister so that the colour of her hand paled to white, she took several quick shallow breaths as she attempted to regain her composure.

She had let things get to such a state that Ron had been forced to take one of his very limited days off work to go to camp instead of spending it with Hermione. Despite the fact that the two had got engaged last month, they seemed to have very little time to spend together and now her brother had chosen to devote that time to her. Any fears of what Ron might see and hear were far outweighed by guilt; just because her relationship had collapsed did not mean that Ron's should as he ignored Hermione's needs for hers.

Hastily she made her way down the stairs. She was not sure how she was going to do this, but it was about time she faced everything that had happened head on and that meant telling them everything. It meant telling them that Harry had proposed and explaining that her last major act in the war had been rejecting him. It meant coming clean to her parents about the fact that she had considered ending the pain of her life fourteen times in the last year and had come very close to calling things a day on a sunny day by the Hogwarts Lake in June. It meant saying that she had caused the death of a friend and most importantly that she knew that Harry was alive. She had seen him, spoken to him and then run away from him.

"Mum, Dad," she said as she stumbled into the room.

"Ginny!" both of them replied instantly.

"I need to talk to you," her voice was shaking with nerves and this was being reflected throughout her entire body. "And when I say that," she gulped, attempting to swallow her fears, "I mean talk. And you've got to let me do that, otherwise, I don't think I'll have the courage to do this again."

"Sit down," her mother encouraged with a small smile, "I'll put the kettle on."

Once again she felt like she had been magically pulled over to one of the wooden chairs, just as she had done three months ago in this very kitchen. As she took her place around the old kitchen table, her mother started fussing around with the kettle and three mugs. Ginny stopped and watched her for a couple of minutes, feeling reassured that despite everything that had happened, some things would never change and her mum would do all she could to make her feel loved and supported. Yet it was her father's gaze that brought her back to the reality of the situation.

Arthur Weasley sat very still as he intently looked into her eyes and held her gaze, refusing to let it shift. Many people outside the Weasley family believed Molly Weasley to be the strong and dominant voice in the household, but in these situations, it was her father that always showed his strength as he took control. "Is this about the _Prophet_?"

"Kind of," Ginny replied softly, dropping her gaze before she forced herself to return to looking back into her father's brown eyes, "but like you've always said, that's just tomorrow's fish and chip wrapping." She felt her dad give her hand a small squeeze as she did her best to give him a small smile. "This all really goes much deeper than that."

Her dad waited for his wife to sit down next to him and cupped her hand in his, before he spoke to his youngest child. "I suspected as much." He spoke in a soft but powerful voice. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

Ginny took a deep breath, she had been in this situation before and that night had been very hard. She had sat with her parents when she was the tender age of eleven and explained everything that had happened in her first year at school. It was a night that had drawn on all their emotions and it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that she had headed to bed, drained and exhausted but feeling loved and supported as she made the first step to putting those hellish memories behind her.

The kitchen was deathly quiet for the next two hours as her parents kept to their word and let her explain everything. She started with her escape from Hogwarts in her sixth year and not missed a detail, feeling or emotion until she reached her arrival back at The Burrow. It had been far from the easiest moment of her life; she had felt as emotionally drained by it as the talk she had had at eleven. Yet she had found a certain level of relief as she finally spoke of all her hopes, fears and regrets. Just talking of everything had helped lift the suffocating hold that had overtaken her.

The report of her experiences had not been easy to hear for her parents either. They were clearly struggling to comprehend everything that their daughter had been through on her own, as she rejected all support. The upset on her mother's face had been clear to see. While she was positive at parts of her story she could see tears resting in her father's eyes. Yet despite this he had not let go of her hand.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny whispered as she finished her explanation of events.

Silence filled the kitchen for several long moments which seemed to go on for hours, before her mother slowly got out of her seat. She made her way round the table and sunk to her daughter's height, as she pulled her into a tight hug; a hug that offered so much support and love, saying much more than a million reassuring words would have done. It was a hug which, unlike a week a go, Ginny returned as she started to deem herself worthy, for the first time in years, of the love that she was offered. Her mother seemed for understand her feelings as she placed a small kiss on the cusp of her head between her forehead and hairline.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Molly said fiercely. "You have done nothing wrong."

Ginny glanced over her mother's shoulder, "Dad?"

"Your mum's right ,Ginny. You've done nothing that other people in your position wouldn't have done, which may not mean that you have always made the right choices throughout the last two years, but at the same time means that you are not to blame for anything that has happened and should not be feeling guilty." He paused briefly as he offered a small nod to Molly, who softly broke their embrace. "There is one very important thing that you need to work out right now, and this could change the rest for you life for ever."

"Which is?" Ginny asked apprehensively.

"What you plan to do now."

_Ginny's eyes softly fluttered open, barely hours after they had closed from the night before. Yesterday had been a long day, and today promised to be even longer after they had located the last fragment of Voldemort's soul and planned to set out and destroy both it and the man today._

_She turned her head softly to look at Harry. He looked so peaceful and untroubled as he slept. Right now she would give anything to pull the covers over their heads, cast a Fidelius Charm over them and stay in his arms for the rest of her life. She let out a small sigh. As blissful as that may seem at the moment, it wasn't the right thing to do. Their selfish moments of pleasure would no doubt come back to haunt them as the reports of Voldemort's deed and the terror that reigned through Britain as they thought purely of themselves._

_Last night had been amazing in more ways than one. Lying in Harry's arms all night had made her feel so strong, loved and protected, as if nothing bad could ever happen to her while she was in those arms. And, if they were lucky, this would just be the first of many mornings that they woke lying in the same bed because as long as they both survived this mess, she could not think of one good reason, why she would not be waking up at Harry's side for the rest of her life._

_She watched as Harry opened his eyes. He smiled at her as he reached for his glasses that were lying beside the bed. _

"_Morning," he whispered quietly as he pulled her closer to him._

_She let her head rest on his chest. She could hear and feel every breath that he took as if it was his last. If this was what post war life promised, she could hardly wait for it._

"_Morning," she echoed his words. "Last night was, well, hmm," she said struggling for words to describe the night's events, "well, wonderful."_

_Harry grinned at her, "Yeah," he agreed, "I hope Ron never learns Legilimency."_

_She felt her face flush as she let out a small nervous laugh, "I hope so too, but I bet he and Hermione have been up to the same thing last night." She forced cheeriness into her voice, "I mean, how else would you want to spend what could be your last night, if not with the person you love?"_

_A silence filled the room, that spoke their feelings louder and clearer than any words could have done as she let Harry keep a strong hold on her. Whether they stayed in each others arms for mere minutes or for hours, she would never know. The one thing that she did know, though, was that it was the perfect start to what could be their last day together and something that neither of them were willing to let go._

"_We best get a move on," she said reluctantly as she heard a noise from the next room and broke his hold on her. Wrapping the covers around her body, she made her way to stand up._

"_Listen, Ginny, there's something I need to tell you before we leave this room." He took her hand in his and held it tightly, "No matter what happens today, the best moments of my life have been with you at my side and despite all this you have made me the happiest man alive." He smiled softly. "I love you, Ginny, and nothing is ever going to stop that."_

"What do you plan to do?" Arthur repeated his words, drawing his daughter out of her trance.

"I plan to go back and fight for Harry."


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: Revelations

Disclaimer: All the characters you recognise belong to JK Rowling and I'm just borrowing them. The others and the plot are mine for my sins.

Harry sank to the floor quickly as if he had been hit with a stunning spell. He frantically grabbed his friend's wrist; his heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage as though it was going to burst from its confines. He ran his fingers along her wrist, frantically searching for her pulse. He swore under his breath, his hands shaking badly. It was hardly surprising that he could not feel anything but only hear the sound of his own heart.

He took a long deep controlled breath. He was not going to get anywhere if he let his emotions take over his body. He needed to stop being a wreck and focus on helping his friend. He forced himself to take another long deep breath. With a renewed sense of calmness, he searched for her pulse again.

With a small shake of his head, he turned Frankie's still, lifeless body over. He held onto her hand as he studied her body. There was not a single mark on it or any sign that showed that she had just been attacked, except for her face. Her brown eyes were wide open in surprise. She had clearly not been expecting an attack. She had just been leaving him and walking back to camp; it was part of her daily routine.

He had seen too many victims of the Avada Kedavra curse. Yet he never got used to its effects and never wanted to. There was only one time in his life when he had forced himself to ignore a victim of Avada Kedavra: at that moment, the woman he loved was in a perilous position and he had to save her first.

There was something very wrong, before you even counted it to be undoubtedly evil about this curse. How could someone lose her life so suddenly with no defence and no mark that showed her sacrifice? How could a body look so peaceful and unaffected although it had just met the worst possible end?

Except for in the eyes.

Eyes always gave away people's emotions. No matter how good an actor a person was, his or her eyes always gave away his true thoughts and feelings. Accordingly, Avada Kedavra left its sole mark in its victim's eyes.

Harry forced himself to look into Frankie's eyes. Her eyes usually twinkled with life and provided warmth that could brighten any room, regardless of the situation. Whether she was having fun or doing something that required serious concentration, her eyes were the windows to her soul; they showed her every emotion from joy to despair.

To see her like this just felt so wrong.

Frankie had been there for him every step of the way. She had been there every time he needed her and until very recently, had never turned her back on one of his calls for help. But then he had been as guilty as she was about the recent distance between them. Frankie had helped him so much, becoming his first port of call. She was so much more than just a friend yet the one time she had needed him, he hadn't been there and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

He had lost too many friends due to this war. He had let too many friends die because of his actions during this war. He had even lost his own life due to this damn war. It was too much and there was still no end in sight.

"Harry!"

He couldn't bear to see that expression on her face, in those sparking brown eyes any longer. Reaching out, he carefully and delicately closed her eyes.

"Thanks, Frankie," he whispered. "And I promise you this is not the end of all this."

Silence fell over the area for a couple of minutes as he said a quiet goodbye to his friend. She didn't deserve the hand that life had dealt her, having to put up with so much over the last couple of years. Then again, so few people deserved the hand that life gave them.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Ron's words drew him out of his thoughts and away from his misery. Harry became aware of his friend for the first time since the two of them had run after the Dark Mark. "What's been going on here?"

He glared at Jerome, hatred filling every inch of his body. Had he wanted to, he would have very few problems, fuelling an Unforgivable curse right now. "I'll tell you what's been going on," he spat, "he's a Death Eater!"

Harry glanced over at Ron who, despite the recent events that were enough to shock anyone, stood strong. Like so many times before, Ron held his wand high, aiming straight at Jerome's chest, daring him to move.

Throughout his life since he began at Hogwarts, almost every time he had needed it, Ron had been by his side, supporting him and covering his actions. When Ron had not been there, Frankie had taken his place. He had been truly blessed with his friends. The fact that Ron was there now, was the only thing that stopped him from doing something rash to avenge Frankie; the one thing that was stopping him from unleashing that anger. Ron would always jump to his defence before questioning his actions; the level of loyalty and support his friend offered meant more to him than anything else.

He knew whatever he did, whatever happened, and no matter what amount of time that passed, Ron would be at his side.

"You just found her here?" Ron asked as he turned his attention to the former Slytherin, "Well," he said as he took control of the situation. "I suggest you prove it."

"How?" Jerome questioned, raising his hands in mock protest. "Please enlighten me, because I'm dying to know," venom dripped from his voice, "and if I can remember rightly, you're not the most knowledgeable of Potter's sidekicks, so I'd love to know what you have in mind."

Harry glanced from Ron to Jerome, as he wracked his brain. He was sure that there was some spell that could help trace the magical incantations a wand had previously cast. They would be able to easily work out a guilty party, providing that he had used his own wand. He was positive that he had read something along those lines a while ago.

"Roll up your sleeves" Ron spoke softly but he kept his wand high, unmoving from his spot, as he kept his nerve and repressed any anger that he might be feeling, "and hand over your wand."

"I'm not handing over my wand!" Jerome retorted quickly.

Ron shrugged his shoulders before offering him a small smile and flexing his wand. "Then I guess it looks like you're going to have it taken off you."

Jerome paused, looking closely at Ron's face. He seemed to be thinking over the situation before he replied, "What I meant to say," his slimy nature returning, "I'm not handing over my wand while you have your wand held up at me. I read the papers and I know what you can do with that thing. Put your wand down."

"Fine," Ron smiled at Harry as Ron stooped to the floor and placed his wand on it. Harry took his lead and kept a firm grip of his wand and aimed it upwards. Ron gave Harry a small nod as he spoke, "Now you."

Glaring at him, Jerome plastered a sickly sweet smile on his face as he placed his wand on the floor. Standing up, he slowly rolled up the right sleeve of his t-shirt, showing nothing but plain flesh. He offered an unnerving grin as he moved his hand over to raise his left sleeve. Indented into his forearm was a green snake coming out of a skull's mouth.

A shiver ran down Harry's spine as he jumped to his feet. He looked up at the Dark Mark hanging in the air and then, at the same image indented on Jerome's arm.

"Is that what you were looking for?" Jerome questioned in a smug tone. "I'm amazed no one had the brains to work this out before, but your brain has been pretty much scrambled, Potter. Couldn't recognise your own girlfriend." He paused to add weight to his words. "I've had so much fun adding to her problems with her sanity, stopping her looking for you and as an added bonus earned some more gold to go into the vault. But no one will ever be able to prove that, I've covered my tracks well." The sense of anger that Harry was feeling started to grow rapidly, as Jerome continued in his slippery tone. "You may not remember much, but you should now. In a war, people do what they can to preserve their blood, right?" He paused as he sent Ron a smile. "People do what they can to survive."

"What about after the war?" Harry questioned in a tense voice that showed he was struggling to keep his temper under control.

"We both know that although the Dark Lord may be gone, this war is not over."

Everything was making so much sense now. He could have--should have worked things out much sooner. All the hints were there. If only he had taken the time to think, he could have stopped all this. The press leaks about Ginny. Bumping into Jerome before Neve's death. Jerome lurking in dark tents with open trunks. The mysterious paperwork and the variety of long sleeved t-shirts.

And now Frankie.

Hatred filled his body as he glared at the young Death Eater standing in front of him. Surely everyone was born as equal. How could people become so indoctrinated into those beliefs that they became nothing short of evil and able to perform unthinkable acts?

Harry rushed over and drew his arm backwards, letting all his frustrations and anger sweep over him. He let fly and his fist made contact with Jerome's nose, demonstrating a fine act of Muggle duelling. He pulled his hand back again without waiting for the blood to dry on Jerome's face or even for him to get back to his feet; he had one thought in his mind.

The Death Eater was going to pay for everything he had done. He was going to pay for this war and all the deaths that had occurred in the last two years.

"Harry, don't," Ron said as he seized Harry's arms and pulled his friend backwards. "He's not worth it!"

Ron grabbed his own wand from off the floor and quickly muttered, "Stupefy." He turned his attention back to Harry, softly expressing his words in his eyes, "Don't do something you'll end up regretting."

"This is the least he deserves!" Harry exploded. "He killed Neve, and he killed Frankie," he said, his voice was packed with emotion. "He let Ginny be persecuted."

Ron let go of him, his voice shaking, "You know about Ginny?"

Harry added a slightly shameful nod, "I met her last week."

"Then why the hell did she turn up one week ago," his ears were turning red, "in floods of tears, wanting to do things that I don't even consider?" His face was glowing with anger. "She was back to the state she was in when she was released from St Mungo's. She may put up a strong front, but over the last two years, she's had her heart broken and her sanity questioned on a weekly basis. She can only take so much, Harry!" Harry forced himself not to look away from Ron's glare. "What did you say? How did you hurt her?"

"I really didn't mean to," Harry replied quickly, guilt coursing through every inch of his body.

He should not have expected anything other than this. Ron was, first and foremost, Ginny's older brother. Of course, he would defend his little sister from anyone who hurt her.

Why did that memory have to come today? Why couldn't he have developed those feelings last week?

Even with such a promising start, this was quickly becoming one of the worst and longest days in his life.

"I didn't mean to," he repeated aswith as much earnestly as he could manage, "I just didn't remember her, and I wasn't going to lie to her."

"Shit," Ron muttered as he started to pace in the clearing. "Please tell me this is some strange kind of joke."

"What's the point in joking about this?" Harry explained with a slight shrug of his shoulders, keeping an eye on the former Slytherin. "And while I know it's a mess, there's nothing I can do about it right now. I'm going to deal with it after I see him in Azkaban." He watched the Death Eater stoop to the floor and reach for his wand. "Expelliarmus."

"Petrificus Totalus," Ron flicked his wand as he halted his pacing. "At least that's easily sorted," his voice sounding hollow, as he cast a silvery jet out of his wand that quickly took the form of a Jack Russell terrier. "Expecto Patronum." Ron watched the small dog until it disappeared into the distance, allowing time for his thoughts to settle and his message to reach its desired destination. "Hermione works as assistant to Mafalda Hopkirk, the new head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It will be her department that sorts this out and arranges a trial."

"Trial?" Harry questioned "He was caught red handed; he as good as confessed."

"Everyone deserves a fair trial." He paused, before whispering quietly, "Think about Sirius, Harry."

"Sirius was innocent," he said automatically and instantly without knowing where the words had come from.

"I know that!" Ron glared at the former Slytherin. "But what I'm saying is that no matter how guilty someone looks, he's entitled to a fair hearing. We want to know everything he has done."

Harry looked closely at Ron. He looked so much older than his faded memories of him. He was thinking much more rationally than in those dreams he previously had but then a lot of people had changed, not least himself.

"When did you get so wise?"

"It's been a long two years," he explained, with a look on his face that was much older than his nineteen years. "We lost you and almost lost Ginny, and not to mention, Hermione's been a wreck at times. Someone needed to stay in control."

"Thanks, Ron," he said, softly.

"What for?"

"Everything." Harry paused, "For looking after them."

"There was nothing else to do." Ron smiled at him. "Besides, you'll make it up to everyone later."

Harry looked briefly down at his feet, unsure of what to say next. He could hear Ron shuffling on his own feet. Things were not as natural as they should be or as they had been. They were never going to be; not after what had happened in the last two years. They were going to need some time. Yet Harry knew that the base of their friendship, despite everything, was still there. That was clear the second Ron had run after him and jumped for his wand.

Several loud popping noises broke through the silence and tension that had enveloped the site. Twenty witches and wizards dressed in a variety of Muggle clothing, some in some strange combinations, appeared within seconds and formed a circle around the three of them. All of them had their wands raised high into the centre and beneath the Dark Mark.

"Who conjured it?" One of the men asked as he moved out of the circle and towards them.

"He did," Harry said, gesturing to Jerome's body that was still immobile on the ground. "He's a Death Eater.

"And her?" he spoke without much feeling, as if he just wanted to get the job done quickly.

"Frankie," Harry whispered as he gulped, a lump caught in his throat. "She was hit by Avada Kedavra," he managed to choke out, his voice filled with tears as his attention was brought back to her. "She was a camp volunteer and a great friend."

"Harry!" A woman's voice exclaimed.

A teenage girl came out from the circle. She lowered her wand and walked towards him. The young woman before him was one of the few to get the Muggle dress code correct. As she got closer, the sun caught her bushy brown hair and lit up her face.

"Harry?" Her voice was shaking. "Is that really you?"

He nodded, "Hermione?"

_Harry watched as Ginny picked up her clothes from the floor, and threw them in the washing basket. Neither of them had seen much point in aiming for the washing basket when they were throwing their garments off in their passionate hurry last night. They had far more important and pressing matters on their minds._

_He couldn't help but smile as Ginny kept a tight hold of the bedding while opening the door to the wardrobe and pulling out some clothes. It was almost as if she was trying to retain the last elements of innocence. They were losing everything that they treasured most far too easily._

_Ginny was being extremely careful that nothing slipped out of place. She was fussing over her hands and the blankets so much that she dropped her jeans three times and nearly lost the covers as many times in quick succession. He had to forcibly stop himself from laughing, but he couldn't keep the grin from growing larger. She needn't have bothered with all this; they had seen and discussed everything last night. Yet somehow, the reality of the day was setting in and he knew what he had to do. _

_As much as he wanted to see the sun shining on her delicate figure, he had things to do. As much as he would love to watch her move and to closely examine every inch of her, he couldn't; time was pressing. This was the first day of the rest of his life, and he had plans to put into action that had nothing to do with the events that would take place later that evening. Plans that concerned Ginny and seeing her like this every morning for the rest of their lives._

_"Harry," she spoke softly, annoyance clearly showing on her face as she turned her head to look at him._

_"Yes?"_

_"You __**do**__ know it's rude to stare at someone," she spoke in a serious voice and kept her face straight yet her eyes twinkled with mischief that showed she wasn't annoyed in the slightest._

_He smiled; she was the only person who could bring a sense of fun into any situation, something that was definitely required this morning. She shot him a soft, parting smile as she left the room, the covers still in place and headed towards the bathroom._

_Forcing himself up instead of lying in bed and letting images of Ginny float through his mind, he got out of bed, and pulled on a pair of boxers and jeans. He pulled an old t-shirt out of the drawer without bothering to look at it and yanked it over this head._

_Leaving the room, he paused for a second on the landing. He could hear Ginny's voice floating over the sounds of running water from the shower, singing a Weird Sisters' love song. He almost fell down the stairs in the rush to get out the house. Jumping the last few stairs, he felt a sense of urgency fill his entire body._

_Hopping on one foot at a time, he pulled on an old pair of trainers. Gringotts would have to deal with the scruffy look today. He made sure that he pocketed his key and wand as he regained his balance; he flung himself at the door._

_"Harry!"_

_He almost fell again as he spun round. "Yes, Hermione?" he said automatically. He should have known to expect her here._

_"Where are you going?" She spoke sternly, using that same voice whenever she disapproved of his actions._

_He studied Hermione's face. She rarely let these things drop, especially when she saw herself in the right. He knew what was going through her mind, but he was not sure whether he could dismiss her doubts with the truth just yet. He wanted Ginny to be the first to know, and that would not be until tonight._

_Harry glanced back upstairs towards where he could hear Ginny moving around. In this old house, you could hear every movement in the upper floors. If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to see her every movement as well._

_"Harry!"_

_"I can't really tell you."_

_"Harry," her voice had a snap to it that proved to him clearly that she wasn't going to be able to brush him off, just like he had suspected. "You are not doing this alone, we agreed yesterday. We all decided. We would go and get that necklace together and destroy it together. Then we will all go to battle when you will face him." As she spoke her arms waved in the air almost leading to her throwing her burnt piece toast at the front door. "You promised, Harry."_

_"I'm not going there," he said, trying to say as few words as possible, giving few clues to his actions._

_"I don't believe you," Hermione's voice raised. "And if you're not going to tell me, I'm going to come with you."_

_"Would you keep your voice down, Ginny will hear you," he hissed, glancing nervously at the stairs. "I'm not going to get that Horcrux. If you must know I've got some business to sort out at Gringotts."_

_"Business linked to Ginny?" she asked shrewdly._

_"Drop it, Hermione," he said stubbornly. He was not going to back down on this issue. "Just keep her busy and I'll be back within the hour."_

"Harry is that really you?" Hermione asked, drawing him out of his trace.

He looked at her for a second, not willing to let the memory go. He had been getting so close to finding everything out. What was he going to Gringotts for? What did he need to talk to Ginny about? He needed her so much, right now. It was so important that he talked to her. But had he blown all those chances? Would her family even let him near The Burrow? As much as having his best friends by his side was important, it was not his greatest the root of his desires.

"Harry?" Her voice was shaking.

"It's me," he said softly.

She walked over to Ron, her body shaking as much as her voice had been. She leaned on him, and spoke in barely a whisper. "How could this have happened?" Tears were sparkling in her bright brown eyes and shining as they fell onto her cheeks. "All the evidence, all the facts, suggested that he was dead. How could we have given up?"

"It was the blast." Harry said.

"Why didn't we listen to Ginny? She was so adamant that he was alive, but we just added to the fears she'd lost her mind. We didn't give her a chance, just dismissed her views as signs of depression, even madness." She continued to ignore Harry's words. "Does she know? How do we tell her?"

Ron rubbed her back, "She knows."

"Well, why isn't she here?"

"Things aren't that easy." Ron gulped. "There were complications."

Harry watched the pair of them. They were so loving and tender towards each other. He watched as Ron let Hermione cry into his shoulder. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy rising within him as Ron kept a tight hold of her. This was as much a shock for them as it was for him, if not more so.

He glanced up at the Dark Mark still hanging in the air. Voldemort may be gone, but he still had a huge effect on people's lives.

"Miss Granger," one of the Ministry officials said tentatively, as he broke from the circle. He waited until she gave him a small nod of acknowledgement. "What do we do about the deceased and the suspect?"

"Take them." Hermione stooped down and picked up Jerome's fallen wand. "And you'll be needing this for Prior Incantato."

The official reached forward and took the wand from her trembling hand. "And will you be coming?"

"No," she shook her head, "Will you explain to Madam Hopkirk that I've taken the rest of the day off. Say whatever you have to."

A small amount of smoke around Frankie's body appeared and several popping noises led to the disappearance of both Jerome and the ministry officials. They were now on their own and he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable being left alone with his former best friends. So much had changed. It was as if none of them knew how to react to each other.

He looked away, trying to focus on something, anything but the silent tension that had engulfed the area. Flying through the clearing and amongst the trees was a teenage girl. She was staring at the sky, a fierce determined look in her eyes and her vibrant red hair flying against the air with her wand raised.

She paused as she came to a standstill studying the situation before her. "Harry?"

He couldn't help but offer her a small smile, "Ginny?"


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven: Questions

Ginny headed out of the door of The Burrow and quickly crossed the garden with a renewed sense of purpose filling every part of her body. Her hands fumbled with the gate, but it flew open as she opened the latch. She took one quick glance over her shoulder at her home, as the gate slammed shut behind her. She took a couple of steps forward so that she was out of the anti-Apparition wards that were still in place since the war had started.

Her eyes stayed fixed on her family home for a couple more seconds. She may have the love and support she needed within her family walls, but she wasn't sure that it would be that easy to get that same level of support at the camp. She may have only been gone a week, but it seemed like it had been a lifetime ago since she had left Harry. So much had changed, but at least, she was in the right frame of mind now to correct the mistakes that she had made.

Quickly she spun on her feet and imagined the camp gates in front of her eyes. Within seconds, she was standing in front of them. The big, looming gates towered above her, making her feel very small and insignificant in comparison. It was almost as if their sheer size was just another of her problems and one of the number of things that now weighed on her shoulders.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders, trying to release the burden of everything. The sooner she started working through all the mistakes she'd made, the sooner things would be back to normal. The question was: where to start? Her brain was telling her that she should head over to Coughlan, but her heart refused to listen. She had to find Harry and force him to remember who she was and what they had meant to each other.

She took a long, deep breath; this was not going to be easy. Ginny looked up at the sky for some form of inspiration, as if it could offer her the words that would help convince Harry who she was and provide her the bravery she would need to repair her heart and face him. Just as she was about to turn into camp, something caught her eye.

The Dark Mark was hanging in the sky, over the trees around fifty yards away and in the opposite direction to the camp. A shiver ran down her spine, as she dropped her bag to the ground without too much thought or care.

She did not need time to think about her actions. From prior experience, she knew that the mark meant that someone needed help. After this war, and more so the last week, she wasn't going to doubt herself as she decided to find Harry later. As much as she loved him, ending this war was more important. People were not going to suffer the way she had.

_So much for having time to compose her thoughts,_ she scoffed as she pulled her wand out of her jeans' pocket.

She felt power radiate through her wand and into her body as she broke into a light run, strands of her hair falling out of her ponytail and flying in front of her eyes. Sprinting towards the Dark Mark, she became swifter with each step that she took. Quick breaths powered her movements as she focused her eyes ahead, only letting them flick occasionally to the sky. The trees were nothing more than green and brown blurs as she weaved her way in between them, ignoring the scratches she got as branches brushed her bare arms. She kept her wand held high, ready to pounce as she approached the clearing.

Her heart stopped.

Ginny came to a sudden stop as she rounded a tree and saw three people standing in a clearing. Her movements had halted so quickly that she stumbled; only some fast footwork stopped her from falling flat on her face. She renewed the grip on her wand; at the moment, it was the only thing offering her protection, the only thing that was constant.

She could hardly believe what she was seeing.

Underneath the Dark Mark was Harry, and he was staring straight back at her. Flanking him were Ron and Hermione.

The trio was back.

She had seen them standing side by side on so many occasions yet today it didn't quite feel natural. It was almost as if she couldn't dare to dream, to hope, what she was seeing was real. If the trio was back together, then surely that was a sign that things were returning to what they should be.

A twinge of jealously twisted her heart. Part of her, a very small part of her, didn't want to see them by his side. They had given up on Harry so quickly when he had gone missing. Hermione had spent hours trying to make her listen to her reasoned arguments as Ron had reluctantly backed his girlfriend's comments, explaining that he had spent hours at the site without any luck. If anyone should be back at his side, it should be her.

_Well it would have been her standing there,_ a small voice reminded her, if she hadn't turned her back on him. She intended to correct that situation this very second. Today was not time for turning away; she needed to face what was in front of her and right now.

As her brown eyes interlocked with his green ones, she could not help but let a glimmer of hope fill her body.

"Harry," she breathed, letting her voice carry through the air.

"Ginny."

Her heart did a double take as she heard him say her name. She couldn't help but feel her spirit lift as he showed some sign of recognition, even if it was only her name. But as quickly as that hope came, it disappeared. He had known her name last week, yet that was just it. She was so much more than just her name. He hadn't known who she was and who they were and surely that was much more important than him just saying her name.

This was so confusing and she knew if she thought about it any longer, it was only going to cause more heartache. It would only lead to more pain and desperation if she clung to those thoughts. She had to act and not let her mind play games with her. Instead, she had to be brave and strong, and use her Gryffindor qualities that were supposedly part of her inner core to help him remember.

He had to know she wasn't just the lunatic that the _Daily Prophet_ wrote about. He had to know that her life had been distorted since she'd lost him. He had to know that he unleashed the best qualities in her and helped to make her who she was today. She just hoped that she did the same for him.

She swallowed her nerves and her worries. They just needed time and she swore to herself that she would get back to where they were. He meant too much to her, and she couldn't just lose him.

Slowly she walked towards him and into the clearing. She felt the fallen leaves and soil crunch beneath her feet. Carefully she took each step. Her emotions were so overwhelming that she felt as if she could fall at any second. Time was almost standing still for her, the seconds that passed turning as slowly as days on a calendar. Her sole purpose was to be at his side again. All noises had disappeared into the background, but then again, she doubted that she would have heard an explosion if it had gone off right now.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting to approach him, she finally stood close to him--by his side, as she felt she was always meant to be.

"Hey," she said softly, swallowing her fears and offering him a small smile.

He returned the smile. It was so great to see that smile, somewhere other than in her dreams and memories. She had missed it so much that it hurt.

"Hey," he replied, in a soft tone, "I was going to come to The Burrow later, after everything was sorted here."

Her knees were on the verge of buckling. That was clear recognition. There were signs of hope in that sentence. Her entire body was shaking. There was a chance, a possibility, that he knew who she was. All the pain and hurt she had been through could be ending. Maybe, just maybe, there was a light at the end of a very dark tunnel that she had been stranded in for so long.

"You know about The Burrow?" she asked, her voice shaking as much as her body.

He offered a small nod, which was barely detectable to anyone who was not experienced at watching his slightest movement. "I just needed a little time. I needed that spark." His voice was slow and controlled. "I need some more time, just that bit of time to remember. I'm sorry I hurt you, but I never meant to."

"I know that. It was just a lot to deal with," she said, trying to explain.

He nodded. "It's not been the easiest of times."

"That's the understatement of the year," she said, feeling a small smile forming on her lips for what felt like the first time in years.

"And, now I may be struggling, but I don't want to rush a second of this. I want to get to know you again," he told her as he reached over and took her trembling hands.

"That's, well, that's good," she breathed, struggling over her words, stepping closer to him so that their bodies were almost touching.

Her heart was fluttering again. Hope was starting to fill every bone in her body.

Things may not be perfect, but even if he couldn't remember everything, he seemed to want to work on things. She guessed that, at the moment, it was the best she could hope for. It was more than she had dared to dream of just a few short hours ago.

"Harry," Ron interrupted them, "don't you…"

Ginny swore under her breath. If Ron did his over protective big brother act today, she would hex him so badly he would have a stay in St Mungo's longer than hers all those months ago. She loved him to bits, but right now, he needed to leave her to deal with this and not try to shelter her. He needed to trust her to make the right decision and look after her heart.

"Ron," Hermione cut her fiancé short, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling grateful to the older girl. "Let them be, they need time together. We can deal with this."

"That's not what I was going to say," Ron hissed.

Curiosity got the better of her as she drew herself out of her thoughts and looked between Ron, Hermione and the Dark Mark still hanging in the sky, breaking hand contact with Harry as she pulled away from him. The glowing green skull with the serpent tongue was the reason that she had been drawn to this spot initially. While she had been caught up with Harry's reappearance, she had all but forgotten about it.

There was something going on, something that very much had to do with that Dark Mark. The main fighting might have stopped and the Death Eaters' evil dictator might have been destroyed, but this war was very far from over.

"What's happened here?" As she spoke, she raised her wand ready for action.

"Jerome," Harry spat the name with both anger and disgust. "He's a Death Eater."

As he explained, she found the same anger that Harry's words expressed bubbling inside her. "He's been messing with you, leaking that stuff to the _Prophet_ in hopes of destroying you. He…he…" Harry paused struggling to find the words. "He killed Neve." His voice shook, as he was clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check. "He killed Frankie."

"Frankie," tears fell down Ginny's face that she couldn't control as her hand instantly made a move to his before she thought better of it and withdrew it from his reach, "No."

"Yes," his anger had been replaced with a sober tone.

"Where is she?" Ginny asked softly, her voice had dropped as she attempted to keep her emotions in check.

"Sent back to camp," he replied, glancing at the ground, before looking back into her eyes. She was positive that she could see glimmers of tears in the emerald eyes. Those very tears were reflected in his voice when he said, "The very least she deserves now is a bit of dignity."

Ginny nodded, hardly believing what she was hearing. How could so much hope have disappeared within minutes? Frankie hadn't deserved any of this but then no one deserved anything that this war had inflicted upon them. The worst part of all this was that Frankie, who'd spent her life helping victims of this war, was going to end up as a mere statistic in the history books.

Hatred filled her body, enough hatred to fuel one of the Unforgivable Curses. This mess needed to be sorted out and the world needed to be put back to normal with Harry back in it.

"Where is he?" she spat.

"At the Ministry, awaiting trial," Harry said. "But it could have been so much worse. Just think of all the time he spent alone with you."

"I guess there is one good thing to having the media spotlight on you;" Ginny offered a small shrug, "it's hard to attack me without getting caught."

"I think the media's attention may be shifting a little now," Harry spoke softly. "Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"Harry," Ron hissed as both Ginny and Hermione glared at him. "A word please."

"I really need to talk to Ginny, Ron," Harry protested.

"This will only take a minute," Ron insisted.

She watched as Harry broke away from her and made his way to her overprotective brother. They took a couple of steps further away so that they could stop her, and to a lesser extent Hermione, from overhearing what they were saying. Ginny kept her eyes fixed firmly on Harry and Ron.

"Ginny," Hermione said in a low voice, "I just want to say that I'm so sorry, sorry I didn't believe you."

She gave a stiff nod. She was not sure that she was ready to forgive Hermione yet. Hermione had spent months trying to convince Ginny that she needed to mourn Harry and to move on, but Ginny took no notice of her words. Hermione had always focused on the facts and this time she had used those to dismiss the feelings that Ginny had trusted. Ginny wasn't blaming the older girl; that was her only coping mechanism. Ginny just wasn't quite willing to admit that out loud yet. Ginny had been fighting for so long against everything that Hermione had said to her, all the times that she had tried to convince her that Harry had to be dead, that now she was proven to be right in trusting her instincts, Ginny was not quite sure she was ready to forgive her friend for her sentiments.

Besides she had much more important things on her mind right now. She leaned closer to hear what the two men were saying. "Shh, I'm trying to listen."

Ron spoke in a whisper that was barely loud enough to carry over. "Listen, mate. As happy as I am to have you back, she's my sister, my little sister, Harry, and I'm worried about her." He paused, adding weight to his words. "You better not hurt her. She's been through enough."

"I have no intention of hurting her."

"Just like you didn't intent to hurt her last week?" Ron questioned.

"What Ron's trying to say," Hermione strode over to Ron, "is that Ginny has gone through so much while you were gone." She placed her hand in her fiancé's as she backed up his words. "Whether you intend to do something or not, it is more a case of the words you use." Hermione paused, dropping her voice for her last few carrying word. "Ginny's fragile."

Ginny's insides were fuming and she felt her hand dive for her wand. Once again, they were talking about her as if she was not there, just as they had done so many times over the last two years. If anything, the last two years had proven that she was more than capable of handling herself.

She did not need nor want to be mollycoddled.

"I'm fine!" She exploded, breaking through the argument taking place. She was not going to sit back any longer. "I'm a big girl and I know how to look after myself. I mean, look at me," she used her hands to gesture to herself. "Despite everything, I'm still standing. I'm still here, so please, just give me a little credit."

"Ginny," Hermione spoke softly as she tried to offer the hand of friendship. "We're just concerned."

"Which is good to know," Ginny lowered her tone; she was willing to meet her halfway, but that was just it. She was determined to talk to Harry on her own, and no over-concerned brother or friends were going to stop that. "But, I'm going to be fine, especially after we've talked. If you still have any doubts, you should talk to Dad, Ron," she said, looking over at Harry and holding out her left hand hoping that he would take it. "Come on, Harry, let's go."

Harry took the hand that she had offered and led her through the trees. Holding hands may be the simplest thing in the world, and they were barely touching at that, but right now, it felt more fulfilling than any other moment in her life. Their fingertips were just brushing against each other as they walked, but it sent shivers down her spine. They may not be anywhere near where they had been, but this was a start.

A very promising start and the best things did come in small packages.

They stayed silent as they headed closer to their destination. Neither had mentioned a place to sit as they talked, but both seemed to know instantly where to go. It was as if their thoughts were in the same mindset, following the same thread. Almost as if they were two halves of the same coin again, two halves of a heart and one single identity.

The silence might not have been the uncomfortable one of a week ago, but she still found herself wanting more. She wanted those few more words that would offer her reassurance and start to ease the pain of the last few years.

Finally, they reached Little Hangleton and she took a seat at the side of the road on the muddy track. She rested her back against a tree and stared at the old manor house that was looming over them in the distance. This is where it had all ended for them, so it was right that this is where it would start again.

Harry took a place beside her and sat down. He was close enough to offer support, but far enough away so that he was not invading her space. After so many times that they had sat so close together that their bodies had intertwined making them just one identity, there was no doubt today that they were very much two separate people.

"What can you remember?" she asked after what seemed to be an eternity.

She was not sure if she wanted to know the answer, but she knew that it was the one thing she had to know.

"Just fragments really," he said as he kept his eyes fixed ahead. "I haven't got a clear image of my life and what it was, but some of the more important things are coming back to me," he paused as he looked directly at her. "Some important people are coming back."

"And what do you remember about me?"

"That you were one of the few people I trusted with everything." Her heart stopped as he paused. "That you made me feel so happy, and that I would do anything for you. That I loved you. It just took me a while to picture your face."

She wanted to throw her arms around him in a hug, but she managed to stop herself. He knew that he had loved her. It was not time for that, yet.

Ginny nodded as she did her best to keep her emotions in check. "That feeling was pretty mutual."

"I may not remember the details, but I intend to work on that," he said earnestly. "I remember the feelings and those feelings are still beating inside me. I _will_ get those memories back."

"I can help with that."

Silence filled the air again, before Harry broke it. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can always do that."

"Why did you go back to The Burrow?"

"I couldn't cope with it," she said softly. "Part of me wanted to slap you, force you to remember, and the other part of me had never felt so low."

_Ginny watched as her NEWT Potion's paper flew right into the bin in the front of the Great Hall with all the other exam papers, straight towards Professor Flitwick, knocking the small head of Ravenclaw off his feet. She could hear a ripple of laugher start as the Charms teacher stumbled back to his feet, but she felt no desire to join in. _

_This was it; her last exam had fulfilled her promise to her mother. Her mum had made her promise that she would try to move on with her life by completing her NEWT studies instead of sitting by the pond at The Burrow waiting for Harry to return. Unable to think of a decent excuse or argument, or a better escape from her family's clutches, she had agreed._

_While her year back at Hogwarts could hardly be considered fun, there was a certain level of focus she had maintained; she had sworn to herself that she would not disappoint her family in this respect. There had been many times when she had rethought her actions, when the pressure had became too much to handle. People stared at her. The fact that she had been made Head Girl, which she was sure McGonagall had done to show confidence in her, had not helped things; she had become a beacon for attention. There were always dozens upon dozens of eyes on her. Then there were the whispers that would follow her down every corridor and around every corner, tracing her footsteps, waiting for her to explode. She had been forced many times to hold her tongue, yet other times people had not been so lucky. As they tormented her about Harry, or they laughed about him, it triggered her emotions and her hand would fly to her wand to hex them before they'd had time to finish their sentences. Still others would pussyfoot around her, scared of what to say; intimidated by her actions and scattering as soon as they saw her, leaving the whole vicious cycle to start again. _

_She just wanted some normality to her life._

_Ginny placed her hand in her pocket as she got to her feet. She let her fingers wrap around the neck of a glass vial that she had been carrying around with her for months. Professor Slughorn would be so proud if he knew that she had mastered one of the most complex poisons from the Advanced Potion-Making book. She did not want to live in a world without Harry. She did not want to be questioned about his 'death'. She did not want to go to The Burrow without him and watch her mother hover around her. She wanted her mind back without her sanity being called into question._

_She wanted the pain to stop._

_As soon as her row had been dismissed, she got to her feet. Ignoring all the comments that followed her, she headed through the corridors towards the main entrance._

_"It's Ginny Weasley, watch out the way," she heard someone mutter behind her. _

_"Where do you think she's going?" The whispers wouldn't stop. _

_"No idea, probably to that place in her mind where Harry Potter's still alive."_

_"I guess it's sad when you think about it."_

_"It's pathetic!"_

_She could feel people's eyes on her as she pushed open the door. Yet despite the number of teachers and students who were keeping a watchful eye on her, they all kept their distance. No doubt they were scared of what her supposed mental instability would be capable of if she chose to turn on them._

_Crossing the grounds, she quickly reached the Quidditch stands. Despite the numerous requests for her to reprise her position again as Chaser, she had not been down here in nearly eighteen months. This had been the one true place where Harry had been himself, where he had broken the shackles of duty and let his spirit run free. This was the place where their love had started to blossom; in those practices sessions especially after her break up with Dean, they had stolen glances at each other, their heartbeats quickening in pace as the intensity of their gazes trembled through their bodies. _

_She ducked under the boards. Her shirt lifted and skin brushed against the dirt as she squeezed between the boards. Wincing as a stone cut against her leg, she ignored the pain, pulling herself further away towards the darkness. It only took her a few seconds before she was under the stands. She was finally shielded from the light and prying eyes. At last, she was alone; for the first time since she had awoken in St Mungo's, she had time to be with just herself._

_Tears fell freely from her eyes and down the slopes of her cheeks. She resisted the urge to pull her arm across her face and dry her eyes. She didn't want to hold back anymore. There was only one person who could stop the flow of her tears and he was not coming anytime soon. She pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment that she had received earlier that week. Through her blurred vision, she reread the words that had been tearing her heart apart for the last five days._

_Dear Ginny,_

_I wanted to write to you before this leaked to the Prophet or before you learned of it through some other way. The Ministry is holding a ceremony next week to honour Harry and setting up a memorial to mark the one year anniversary of his death._

_I know this is hard for you, but I really think that it will help you to move on if you go. It will also give us a chance to remember everything that Harry stood for and to honour his life._

_Please consider this invitation. We all love you, Ginny, and want to help._

_Good luck with your Transfiguration and Potions exams, although I'm confident you do not need luck._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_When were they going to learn that she did not want to move on, not when there was still no evidence that Harry had died. She didn't care if the Ministry had given up. The Ministry had given up on so many things in the past and they were wrong more often than they were right. But what really got to her was that everyone else had given up. Harry's best friends had turned their backs on him and her own parents thought that she was mad. And if she was going back to a world that doubted her, she really didn't want to be part of it._

_She let the parchment fall to the ground as she took the glass vial from her pocket. She let the black liquid catch the July sunlight that filtered through the gaps in the stands. Finally there was no one near her. All that was left was to summon the bravery that had led to her being sorted into Gryffindor._

_"Dragon blood is less painful even if it takes longer to take effect." Luna's voice drifted over towards her._

_Her body shook and a shiver ran down her spine as she took a sharp intake of breath upon recognising her friend's voice. Luna had been one of the few people who had stuck beside her. She had been one of the few who had not questioned her actions or belief, but instead, had only offered her pure and simple support._

_"What if I want to suffer?" she choked, her tears reflecting in her voice. "What if I don't want people to find me in enough time to save me?"_

_"Well, that will work very well then," said Luna simply._

_Ginny's voice shook as she uncorked the vial. "Harry's suffered. He's probably still suffering alone somewhere; why do I deserve any better?"_

_"You have always been equal to him," she said sympathetically. "Crumple-Horned Snorkacks__"_

_"I just…," she looked to the sky, aware that she was about to start rambling. "I just want to be back with him. I want it to be just me and Harry for a few moments. Surely after everything, we deserve that." Her voice was laced with emotion. "I want to be who Harry makes me, not the person that I've become. I want people to stop judging me and questioning my sanity, worrying over every step I take." She paused breathlessly, as she turned to look at her friend. "I want all the pain to stop!"_

_"It would hurt more if people didn't care." Luna said with her knack for unabashed honesty. "I have always admired your strength and there are a lot of people, who without a doubt, care for you Ginny. It would be a waste for someone, anyone, to throw that away." _

_She paused. "Death will always come at its time but you still have things to do before you go. You are the only one who can find Harry Potter and bring him back to us. You're the only one who has that link to him."_

_She dropped the vial, no one had ever echoed her thoughts, "You believe that Harry's alive, don't you?"_

_"You are as sane as you ever were. If you say that Harry is still alive somewhere, then he's alive somewhere and you will find him, no matter how long it may take."_

_No matter how long it may take. She would never give up hope._

Ginny was drawn back to present day as Harry took her hand. A warm feeling ran through her body as he kept a strong hold of it. It would be so easy to ignore those scars and forget that the last two years had happened as she looked deep into his green eyes. It was so easy to pretend that everything had never happened.

She broke eye contact as she looked down at her feet, As much as she wanted that to be the case, it wasn't going to be like that and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't forget those days. She was so torn; part of her wanted to hit him for putting her through all this. It may not have been his fault but he had left her to face everything alone. She wanted to hex him. She wanted to hex herself for causing all this pain and running away. Yet, at the same time, she would give anything just to sink into his arms again.

He tipped her chin upward, forcing her to look at him again. "You never should have had to face that alone."

She smiled at him weakly as she let her shoulders shrug. "People didn't want to leave me, but I didn't want to turn to anyone who didn't believe me." She paused. "No one wanted to trust me or believe me when I said that you were still out there somewhere."

Harry studied her face. "I'm starting to think that I've had the last two years a lot easier than anyone else. At least I couldn't remember the pain."

Her smile grew. There was her Harry, with his nobility still intact. He was still putting others before himself, not willing to admit everything that he had been through. He looked after her first, despite the cost of doing so, to ensure that she didn't get hurt again, just as he had done all those years ago by Hogwarts Lake on that gloriously sunny day.

"No one's had it easy."

"Voldemort has a lot to answer for."

"Well at least he's gone now." Ginny muttered; there was no need for loud voices today. "And we can't change the past but the future is still up for grabs and something tells me that the fight is _not_ over yet."

Harry cast his eyes back towards the camp. "Not in the slightest," he agreed, "but who would want a simple life? It would be rather boring."

She smiled. "And who would want that?" she paused, the fear seeping into her mind again. After all this time, she still could not dismiss the nagging doubts in the back of her mind but she wasn't going to run away again. She would get answers today, no matter how painful they might be. "So I guess my only question left is, where do we go from here?"


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Reassurance

Harry looked at her for a few minutes in silence. She looked so beautiful as the sun set behind her. The glow of the sunset was bringing out all the tones in her red hair, highlighting the copper and showing just why it had always been his favourite feature of hers. Ginny's hair danced with her movements, blew in front of those bright brown eyes and roared with her words providing a very apt image for a Gryffindor lioness.

He felt a shiver run down his spine. It was amazing how quickly the climate changed once it neared Halloween although he was sure that shiver had nothing to do with the weather. The setting sun splayed a kaleidoscope of colours against the encompassing trees which rustled in the cool late October wind.

Ginny's hair had fallen out of her loose ponytail and the auburn strands had started to catch the wind. He had an urge to tuck those stands of hair behind her ears. He wanted the chance to feel her skin and to touch her face as he looked deep into those eyes and to have those initial touches lead to a kiss, just like they had done so many times before. The way her hair was escaping its ponytail, just like it had at the end of Quidditch matches, gave her a windswept look that was breathtaking without a doubt, especially when combined with her natural glow.

He reached his hand forward to move that vibrant red hair out of her eyes. He had an overwhelming desire to close the gap between them and kiss her, losing hours in a passionate embrace and to relive that afternoon by the lake after that all important Quidditch match. If he rated which kiss or series of kisses was the best, it was that day when minutes had disappeared into hours and the darkness had suddenly fallen before either of them noticed a shift in the time.

She was breathtaking.

Despite the pain that was etched on her face, she was stunning. From her sparkling brown eyes to her vivid red hair, even in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she was perfect.

It was taking a lot of restraint on his part to keep from sweeping her into a kiss. After so much hurt and pain, it wouldn't be right, even though they both wanted it. The little things were important right now; the way his hands had trembled and his heart had jolted when they had touched. The way that she had accepted his touch, without flinching or turning away, meant the world to him.

He may have lost his memory over the last two years, but it was becoming very clear that it was Ginny who had suffered the most in that time. He may have been frustrated but could not remember the pain. He didn't have the _Daily Prophet _and a large percentage of the Wizarding world criticising his every action. They hadn't even known that he was alive, which meant that he had left her to deal with every pressure and burden that came with being the girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived. He only had to look into her eyes to be able to tell the misery that his disappearance had caused.

So how could they change that?

How were they going to put all those tears and lonely nights behind them?

Would they ever be able to get those sunlit days by the Hogwarts Lake back?

Many people would say that this should be the easy part, at least the big uncertainties were over, but it felt anything but easy. They had spent fifteen months not seeing each other but even worse than the pain suffered from being apart was the fact that he could not remember their time together.

Now they were back together and he was struggling to come to terms with everything. There were still huge black gaps in his memory that could take months, even years to colour in. It was those important details, memories that were the true highlights of his life that were gone. When he lay in bed at night he wanted to relive the happy days he spent with Ginny and not stare at blackness.

Harry smiled as he looked into her deep brown eyes. Maybe things were getting just that little bit easier. With each second they spent together he was remembering more of those little moments and without doubt those feelings were rushing back.

At least they both had someone's hand to hold through all of this. Holding hands may be the simplest thing in the world but it felt like the best thing in the world. They were there for each other just as they were always meant to be.

"Harry," Ginny spoke softly, her voice lost in the wind so much that Harry strained to hear. "What do we do now?"

He smiled at her, which she returned in an uneasy fashion.

Ron was right.

No matter how strong the world thought Ginny Weasley was, no matter what acts she put on, there was only so much she could handle. Ginny had told him that she had started an act of being strong after her twelfth birthday, but her brown eyes told him everything he needed to know. They were the windows to her heart and right now, he could tell by the unshed tears that she was still hurting and he intended to be there in those vulnerable moments that were hidden away from so many people. How could he not support someone as remarkable as Ginny Weasley?

"I guess we just take things slowly;" Harry replied, "get to know each other again, and let those memories come back."

"There's going to be a lot of pressure," she said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. "The press will get hold of this," she continued to look away, not wanting to meet his eyes which clearly spoke of unwanted experiences, "but the press and what they do is not going to be nearly as hard as dealing with my family." She paused, letting her soulful brown eyes meet his green ones. "You were their honorary seventh son and they thought they had lost you."

"They want what's best for you, Ginny. Your happiness is their happiness and if you've started to deal with all this, I'm sure their problems with all this mess will start to disappear but I don't think we'll ever stop them wanting to protect you and to make sure you're happy." He spoke without pausing; it felt so natural to be with her. There was such ease between them, and he was amazed at how quickly it had come back. She was so easy to talk to about anything and everything. "Remember the Howler that your mum sent me that, somehow, despite all the protection we had at Godric's Hollow, managed to reach me when you'd walked out of school."

Her warm laugh filled the air, making him feel at home and reducing the effect of the whipping wind. "Trust me," she grinned, every part of her face smiling, "you got the censored version of that Howler." She stopped, suddenly aware of what she was saying. "You remember that Howler?"

"Sometimes I see flashes of past memories. I don't know where they come from, just that they enter my mind." He took her hand and gave it a small squeeze, "But I do know that when I'm with you or even when I'm talking about you, my memories come back much quicker."

"Well, I guess, I'll just have to stick by your side." Her smile grew as she spoke. "Looks like I bring out the best in you," she grinned.

He returned her smile, "You've always done that, Ginny."

They fell into silence for a couple of moments longer. A golden silence overtook them; there were no need for words. He just wanted to bask in the glory of having her by his side for a little longer. Unlike when he was standing next to Ron, he did not feel in the least uncomfortable.

The sun was definitely fading now. The cool air was whipping around them. He could see her shivering but trying to hide it. Ginny would never allow herself to be vulnerable about anything, especially something as trivial as the weather. His smile grew as he took off his jacket. She paused for a moment before accepting it with a smile of gratitude.

"I guess we should go back to camp." She offered a shrug as she tried to pass off her comments as something that didn't matter. "Before I saw the Mark, I had to go and see Coughlan about last week."

She shivered again, although this time he was sure it had nothing to do with the wind.

"It'll be okay," he said softly.

If she was blaming herself for what went on last week, it was laughable. She was no more to blame than he had been earlier today. In fact, he was much more at fault in Frankie's death, considering that he'd had the knowledge of last week's actions. However, in his mind, there was quite simply only one person to blame in all this and he was a Death Eater.

"If only things were as easy as they seemed," she said resignedly, her voice shaking with doubt, "but then there's a lot of _if onlys _in life."

"The world is full of uncertainties and, trust me, we're stronger than you think," he smiled. "We'll fight through this."

Something in his words caught her attention and she looked at him determinedly. "Fighting is what we do best! I mean we've spent most of our lives fighting, I guess that qualifies us as experts." She glanced quickly at the ground for the quickest of seconds before she returned to her normal composure and looked straight into his eyes, "Let's go and do it!"

He got to his feet and offered her his hand to help her up. He wanted any excuse to touch her and this was perfect.

Her smile grew into a grin, and her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Always a gentleman, Potter."

"Naturally, Weasley," he replied quickly.

His smile grew as he thought of the playful banter between them; it felt so good to have jokes bat between them and to be able to exchange smiles. For once, instead of the gloom hanging over their heads, there was a genuine sense of hope.

Ginny had said it. Fighting was what they did best and just knowing that they were fighting for each other instead of an everlasting list of Death Eaters made the end even more certain. They would do whatever it took for their lives to return to normal. And while this fight wasn't as life threatening as the others, it was just as important and it was going to need a lot of emotional energy to get through it. Yet he knew that they were both committed to making those hurdles a little lower. He knew that he would jump over as many of them as he had to.

"So, are you going to take my hand," he said cheekily.

"I can stand on my own," she mocked but despite her words, she smiled at him as she took his hand anyway.

"But its better to have a helping hand." Harry gently pulled her to her feet and offered her hand a small squeeze, "Let's go."

He could not help but feel more encouraged as she kept hold of his hand. She could have easily pulled away as she had done so many other times but she seemed to want to stay as close to him as possible, almost as if she was scared of letting him go.

They found their way up to the path and headed back towards the camp. It was obviously getting late. They had spent so much time on that grass bank without even realizing it that there was hardly any light coming through the trees. The main source of light was shining from the camp like a beacon drawing them closer. He gave her hand another small squeeze as they saw the camp gates.

Ginny's hand trembled in his as she looked through the gates. "Guess it's time for us to face the music."

"We could, or we could just disappear together," he suggested with a small hint of a smile. "We've fought so many battles and sacrificed so much. No one would blame us if we left this battle for someone else to fight."

"As tempting as that sounds, we wouldn't be happy walking away from all this and it wouldn't take us too long to realise that. And then things would just get harder when we did come back," she said softly. "I'll come and find you when I'm done."

He watched as she disappeared among the tents. He was so tempted to follow her. It would be easy to let his heart be pulled along after her. He didn't want to be separated from her so quickly, even if it was just temporarily but she obviously wanted to do this alone and he respected that. He stood rooted in the same place until he could no longer see her weaving between the tents. The last he saw of her was her bright red hair dancing with every step she took.

Ginny was true to her word.

Less than an hour later, she appeared at his tent, with a broad smile and holding a rucksack. She broke the news that Coughlan had welcomed her back to the camp, but also wanted to see Harry in the morning. However, before she had given him time to dwell on that fact, she had opened her rucksack.

She opened her bag to reveal a mixture of all types of clothes and a range of knick-knacks including an old snitch with broken wings. She offered it to him with a smile and erased his confusion as she pulled out a battered overflowing photo album. Several photos, the ones of them when they had been together, were stuck in neatly with little comments written next to them, while many of the other photos clearly had not initially belonged in the album and had been put in there for safe keeping.

There weren't just pictures of the pair of them. Ginny had gone much further and added many more photographs of others. The photos ranged from ones of Harry's parents that she had got from former Order of the Phoenix members to ones of him as a small child and then many more pictures of him once he had turned eleven and started attending Hogwarts, including all those summers at The Burrow. He watched amazingly as the pictures went from a scrawny, young boy to a man at Bill and Fleur's wedding. The photos stopped when they reached the period just before his seventeenth birthday.

Ginny talked through each picture and description. There was the one of her and Harry messing around by the lake at Hogwarts that Hermione had taken back in his sixth year. Harry smiled as the Ron in the picture made gagging faces in the background, which were only partly put on, as the pair of them kissed. Then there were the pictures of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which included a picture of his sixteen year old self unable to keep his eyes off a fifteen year old Ginny who was laughing with Demelza Robins.

He couldn't help but smile over the descriptions and comments but most fun were the jotted exchanges that were scribbled over the pages in both their handwritings. Her small curvy style was neat and relatively easy to interpret whereas the words were slightly harder to make out in his messy scribble.

_'Picture of a Mad Weasley woman who can't keep her hands off me!'_

_'I'm trying to make a nice book here.'_

_'And I'm just commenting in it like you wanted me to do.'_

_'Hardly accurate comments, so quit ruining my book, you git!'_

_'Love you too, Ginny.'_

They'd had so much fun putting this together. They had spent hours messing around with quills and sticking charms and had ended up covered in ink and glue until Hermione had come making remarks about it being an interesting way to do OWL revisions. Ginny had just blushed and had gathered her things, disappearing to the library for the next few hours, leaving him alone for a lecture.

After hours and hours of talking, a couple of bottles of Firewhiskey, and many more laughs that had taken them into the early hours of the morning, Ginny had drifted off to sleep with her head resting on his shoulder. Carefully, he picked her up and laid her on his camp bed and gently placed the blankets over her. She looked as peaceful as if all the weight of her worries and problems that had fallen on her shoulders for so long had started to lift. He positioned some cushions behind his back and sat nearby watching her. He could not bear to take his eyes off her. At five o'clock in the morning he had finally drifted asleep only to wake up to his alarm three hours later with a sore neck.

Things were slowly falling back into place. Harry couldn't stop smiling. Each minute he spent with her was worth a million memories. The empty feeling that was gnawing at his insides was slowing disappearing.

He got to his feet and exited the tent very quietly, careful not to wake Ginny. It was time that he got the rest of his life back on track and that started with getting out of this camp and standing on his own two feet again. He wanted his whole life back and while getting Ginny back was the most important part, there were other things that he needed to do.

Harry strode between the tents. Hardly anyone was up yet, and the camp was still masked in darkness. He must have had only had a couple of hours sleep but that didn't matter at the moment. Besides, Coughlan was well known for being an early riser. After what seemed like mere seconds, he arrived at Coughlan's tent.

He pushed open the flap to the tent.

"Come in, Mr Potter," Coughlan stood as Harry walked into the tent and towards the desk. "Have a seat," he said, pointing to the chair in front of his desk. He waited until Harry sat before continuing. "It appears that I owe you an apology."

"It's okay," Harry replied. He had a feeling that he was going to be hearing that a lot in the next few days. "Just tell me what's happening with Frankie and Jerome."

"Well," he cleared his throat, "we will be having a small private service on the first, and then, the family has asked for her body to be transported to their home in France. They never moved back after the war ended," he added, seeing the look of confusion on Harry's face. He continued sombrely, "Francesca was a very special young woman who won't be forgotten here but her parents want only close friends and family to attend the funeral and we have to respect their wishes."

"Can you give me the details?"

"Let me find the Floo address," he shuffled through some papers on his desk and jotted something down on parchment with his quill before handing it over.

"Thank you," Harry pushed the piece of parchment into his jeans pocket. "What about Jerome?"

"Jerome Campbell has been interviewed, charged, and is currently in Azkaban, waiting trial." Coughlan reverted to his business tone. "I suspect that they will want to take a statement from you as they build up evidence against him."

"And what did that murderer say?"

Coughlan's shoulders shrugged ever so slightly as he looked Harry straight in the eyes. "I'm not given that type of information."

"But you can find out."

"I will see what I can do," he paused, clearly indicating that he was ready to change the direction of the conversation. "Now we should really discuss what you intend to do and how we can help."

"I'm going back to The Burrow," he said, offering a smile at the older man. "I was talking with Ginny into the early hours last night and we agreed that it would be the right place to get my life back on track. And after that, who knows? I'm not planning for that far ahead yet."

"And Miss Weasley?"

"Oh, she's keeping to her word." Harry reassured the camp leader. "She's going to talk to you later today about Apparating in each morning instead of sleeping here." His smile grew; this was one of the reasons why he had started to love her so much. "She wants to fight this out to the bitter end."

"It's highly irregular but I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement." Harry was sure that he saw Coughlan smile before he scribbled something down on a piece of parchment but as it was only for the briefest moment he couldn't be sure. "It's easy to see why you two work so well together. She's another talented, if somewhat rash, young lady," he paused in order to write something else down. "So when will you be leaving?"

"Later today if I can arrange everything."

Coughlan nodded, "I'm sure that it can all be arranged. It's the least we can do." He opened his desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. "But before all that, I have something for you." He offered the envelope to Harry. "This was with Francesca McGovern's things and her parents have requested that you have it since it has your name on it."

Harry took the envelope, "Thank you."

"Well, I guess you have things that you need to do and no doubt you have someone else who is desperate to see you," he said, smiling as he returned to his paperwork. "As for things here, I will try to keep your presence here quiet for as long as possible. Thank you for your time."

Harry nodded as he got to his feet and exited the tent. He wanted to open the envelope on his own--completely on his own. As soon as he cleared the entrance to the tent, he ripped open the envelope. Pleased that the camp was still pretty much deserted, he pulled out the letter and saw a small bracelet fall from the envelope. He was eager to see what she could have possibly written.

He held the letter in his hands for a few seconds without opening it. So many questions were forming in his mind.

Why had she written this?

She hadn't known what was going to happen.

Had she planned to say goodbye to him anyway?

Had she expected _him_ to leave?

Or was _she_ going to walk away?

He looked closely at the letter, savouring its words.

It felt so strange to see her handwriting again. It was almost as if she was still here and this was just another one of the little notes that she had left him. She always gave him little notes, just to make him smile. He shook his head. She always _used_ to leave him little notes; this was the last one.

_Keep smiling!_

Two simple words and one brown leather friendship bracelet, the one that she had always worn around her ankle, were all the envelope contained and while many people may have wanted something more, he was more than pleased. This was quite simply Frankie and that was how he wanted to remember her.

He carefully pocketed the note and placed the bracelet around his wrist, pausing to smile as he tied a strong knot. This had been the only piece of jewellery that Frankie had worn other than a single ring that she wore on a necklace round her neck. It was a ring that had belonged to her older sister before she had fallen in battle during the war. After her sister's death Frankie, who wore very little jewellery, had worn the ring around her neck as a reminder of what people were fighting for.

_Harry Apparated to the front of Gringotts and made a quick trip inside to his vault. He kept his stay in there only as long as it took to withdraw several Galleons. Unfortunately, it had taken longer than he'd expected due to increased security measures. Yet despite that he still managed to avoid the attention of the Wizarding public, since the streets were still so empty._

_Ideally, had he planned this right, he would have come yesterday and then seen Mr Weasley to ask permission last night. However, he had only decided to propose the night before after she had fallen asleep__. He had lain awake looking at her, wondering how he could possibly live without her in his life. Everything had been so perfect then; he wanted that feeling to last forever. Then he made his decision. _

_Diagon Alley was almost empty with very few people hurriedly doing their shopping for what seemed like just the bare essentials. With each visit that he made to the famous street, which had been getting less and less frequent as the war progressed, he noticed more and more shops were being boarded up leaving only Weasley's Wizard Wheezes standing against the dullness. People obviously wanted to do whatever it took to stay safe and to protect their loved ones in such a dangerous climate. It was a fact that normally upset him; however, today the lack of people was perfect. He didn't want people, or more specifically the press, hovering around him and getting wind of what he was planning to do._

_He ignored several jewellery shops that were open. He wanted something different for Ginny; something that suited her personality and not something that was imposed on him by shop assistants. Mr Weasley had mentioned the shop where he had got Mrs Weasley's ring while telling the story of their elopement at Bill and Fleur's wedding. _

_Keeping his hand firmly on his wand, he turned down one of the side streets leaving some of the most famous Wizarding shops in the country behind. He walked along a row of small antique shops and stopped outside a jewellers shop. _

_It was filled with wooden cabinets that were stuffed with jewellery of all types. He made his way over to the glass counter which seemed to contain most of the rings. The number in there was overwhelming. It amazed him that the one item of jewellery that a man chose alone was the one that was the most important. It was a very burdensome task when he thought about it; once the ring was on her left had, Ginny was never going to take it off._

_Maybe he should have told Hermione what he was doing, as he looked down at the rings. He had a feeling that she would have been very helpful in this situation, but he was determined that Ginny would be the first one to know about his plans and that would not be until just before he was going to face Tom Riddle. Besides, he was not sure that he could stand all those knowing glances from Hermione had he asked for her advice here._

_He ran his hand along the counter looking at each ring until he spotted it. He didn't want anything flashy; he wanted something that would celebrate their togetherness and not just match the image of the ring the Wizarding world expected the future Mrs Potter to have--this was perfect. It was a very simple design but very beautiful. It would sit very well on her hand. The ring had a Celtic look to it as a glimmering cross of white gold lay surrounded by a band of princess cut diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight. _

_This was it._

Harry made his way towards the gates. He was eager to get back to Ginny but he needed to get that ring back first and his gut was telling him exactly where to go. He made his way past the trees and along the path, which he hoped was for the last time, towards Little Hangleton. He walked past the place where he had stopped with Ginny yesterday and kept going towards the house.

As he arrived at the place where the final confrontation had taken place, he stopped and focussed solely on Ginny's ring. He raised his wand.

"Accio Ginny's engagement ring."

A small ring flew up from the dirt where it had been embedded. He caught it and placed it in its pocket.

Harry smiled as he held the ring in his pocket. He was finally returning to normality and he had this ring back should he need it. He was certain of one thing--no matter what the future held, Ginny was back by his side.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Harry woke as soon as the sun started to gradually fill the room with light through his bedroom window at The Burrow. He had hardly got any sleep last night. Just knowing that Ginny was finally free to spend some time with him after what seemed like forever sent thrills of anticipation through his spine. Although she may have changed to a day worker at the camp, he had hardly had the chance to see her. Ginny left before sunrise and didn't return until well after dinner. He guessed that over the last month, despite technically living at The Burrow, she spent no longer than six hours a day there. When she was there, most of her time was spent sleeping. However, it was two days before his twentieth birthday when Ginny informed him that starting today she would spend the next two weeks off on holiday.

He made his way over to the window. Bill's old bedroom, which was next door to Ginny's (it had been very tempting to visit her in the middle of the night sometimes), gave an excellent view of the track leading to The Burrow. It had become something of a morning ritual to watch Ginny sneak down the track as the sun started to rise in the distance behind her. He was surprised to see her tracing her steps down the path again today. After what she had said last night about being exhausted, he had expected her to sleep till lunch.

Quickly he pulled a pair of boxer shorts, an old t-shirt, and a pair of jeans out of the drawer before he thought better of it. There had to be a good reason why she had chosen to escape before he was up and he was sure that she would let him in on her secrets later. She always had the most interesting way of revealing her secrets to him in those few hours they spent together during the night.

He stole a glance at himself in the mirror as he pulled a green t-shirt over his head. He was used to the scars and mutilation of his face but others would still be taken aback. Ginny never fluttered when looking at him, stating once that there was so much more to him than the marks on his face. It had, however, taken some time for the other Weasleys to get used to it.

Harry finished getting changed and made his way downstairs, pausing only to collect his wand and to put the ring in his pocket. He had been carrying that ring around ever since he had found it again; it gave him the strength to remember who he was. It was this ring that had taken him and Ginny to a place where they had not been able to imagine a life without each other. This was the very ring that he was going to use to propose to her all those months ago and carrying it around helped him understand that it was a place he wanted to return to at some point.

He mulled over his toast for a bit once he had sat down at the table. He wondered what she had in store for the day. He only knew one thing that when Ginny made plans, they had yet to disappoint him. She didn't leave him long to his thoughts. Less than ten minutes later, she appeared.

Ginny pushed open the door to The Burrow's kitchen and poked her head around it. It was clear that she was tired; her eyes were darkened but her face was still alive. A mischievous grin lit up her face. She was clearly having a lot of fun. She came in further, holding a broomstick in her hand.

"Ready to go flying, Potter?"

"Always, Weasley," he returned her grin, "but where's your broom?"

"Since we aren't playing Quidditch, we won't be needing it."

During the weekends after his decision to leave the camp and over the Christmas period, Ginny had spent her time re-teaching him the finer arts of Quidditch, something that her brothers had laughed over, given his status at Hogwarts. The movements and dives had come back to him very quickly as they took flight as they spent hours in the paddock by The Burrow. While they were still nervous and not sure how to act with each other, it had helped both of them feel more comfortable to be doing something that they both enjoyed. The tension seemed to escape once they took flight.

As they got used to spending more time together, he found himself anticipating her arrival. He looked forward not just to creating more memories as they spent more time together, but also to rediscover the very reasons that had made him fall in love with her in the first place.

"Harry," Ginny called from the gate, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"I'm coming," he said smiling as he crossed the garden, more than a little curious as to what she had planned for today.

She threw the broomstick between her legs in one swift movement but instead of kicking off from the ground, she hovered in the air. "Well, get on then." Ginny moved her body to the head of the broomstick, "I do want to get there before nightfall."

"You're steering?" Harry smiled at her. "I'm not too sure about that."

"Are you trying to suggest that I would crash this broom?" She took the broom slightly higher in the air, holding her position without her hands on it.

This was the thing that he had come most to love about their relationship since returning to The Burrow. Her playful nature, along with that sparkle of mischief in her eyes, made it very easy to tease her. Teasing her always brought very very enjoyable results. It hardly mattered that the methods Ginny used could be deemed underhanded as their banter continued as the end results were always pleasurable.

"Well, you've hardly had that much sleep, how can I be sure to trust you on a broom?" His smile grew into a grin, positive that she would take the bait.

"At least I can remember learning to fly," her eyes twinkled with mischief, as she lowered the broomstick to a height that would allow him to climb on again. "Besides, you don't know where we're going."

Hesitating for the briefest of seconds, he threw his leg over the broomstick, positioning himself behind her, his hands finding a spot mere millimetres from her body. They were so close, closer than her had ever found himself to her in a long time and completely alone. He could not ever remember being ever being this nervous. His whole body was shaking against his will, leading the broom to wobble in the air.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder, sending him a reproachful look as the broomstick shook again. "You're going to make us fall." She hissed. "Settle your hands down."

He ignored the angry tones of her voice and the displeasure on her face as he looked deep into her eyes. They were twinkling again. She was not angry in the slightest; in fact those bright brown eyes were showing that she was having a lot of fun. He felt an over whelming desire to kiss her, which took a great deal of restraint overcome. If he kissed her he would never find out what she was up to; they would spend a few minutes nervously exploring each others bodies before one of her family would rush out the house with some excuse to join them.

As Harry helped her steady the broomstick, his hands moved slightly, so if possible he was even closer to her. This was so tempting. He could feel her body shiver as his breath fell on her neck.

"You ready?" Ginny's voice wavered as she spoke.

"Yeah," he said confidently as he whispered in her ear, "just be careful."

"Now where would the fun be in that?" laughter filling her voice, "Now throw that Cloak over us; I don't want anyone to disturb us."

Harry threw his father's old Invisibly Cloak over them. Ginny had spent months collecting his old things, giving him his Cloak and Sirius' old motorbike the Christmas following their reunion.

Swiftly she took flight. He couldn't remember if he had ever been on a broomstick with another person, let alone as a passenger. His hands fumbled to keep hold of the Invisibly Cloak and the broom at the same time. His heart pounded hard against his chest as though it would burst through his ribcage. If Ginny had intended to get his adrenaline running, she was very successful.

His heart seemed to settle as she circled the old paddock a couple of time, rising higher with each lap she took. She seemed so at ease with her movements. Her early dips on the broom stopped as she turned to look at him.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she breathed softly.

Harry glanced down, looking at the village below them. Old houses, many of the wizarding variety filled the area. The height that they were at making them look much closer together. There was a simple mixture of the wizarding and muggle worlds standing side by side together, peacefully. Looking to his left he could see Quidditch pitches while if he looked over his other shoulder he could clearly make out football fields, both filled with children playing. A background of fields and a long lake Ginny had taken him to so many times offset the post war world, setting the houses in an idyllic way.

"Very," he replied, "and it's only a matter of time before we get one of our own houses in that village."

The broom shuddered slightly as she turned her head. "Promise?"

"Unless, of course, you'd prefer Hogsmeade." He kept his grip firm on the broom. "So why did you bring me up here?"

"I wanted some time to ourselves. Just you and me, away from prying eyes." She paused briefly, as they reflected on her statement. Since his return from the 'dead,' they had so many eyes on them, both from concerned family and friends, as well as from the less _welcome_ sources. It felt wonderful to be completely alone with her.

"So are you up for a bit more fun?" Ginny asked, turning back to the front, her hair whipping about her.

"What do you…"

Before he could finish his sentence, she swept into a dive. His hands slipped down the broomstick and found themselves underneath her body as she sped towards the ground. Thumbing with his hands he quickly removed them, as he placed his hands tightly round her waist. He was so close to her, he could hear her let out a small gasp. Whether on purpose or not, he would never know, but she lost control of the broom and they crashed into the grass.

The cloak fell off them as they rolled onto the ground, losing the broomstick as it rolled away. They flipped over a couple of times, before he settled on top of her. His heart was racing as he moved a couple of strands of vibrant auburn hair out of her eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments; her brown eyes met his green ones, which were alive with laughter.

Placing his hands onto her wrists, he held her down. Instead of resisting or fighting back, Ginny smiled at him, before he sunk into a kiss. Their lips gently brushed, his racing heart speeding up beyond all control, as he felt her lips starting to open. Their tongues met for the briefest of seconds before he pulled away.

Ginny freed her right hand from his grip as she pulled him back in. "Don't even think about stopping there."

The soft texture of her lips sent shivers down his spine as they met again, this time more urgently. If he had ever had any doubts, they were gone within seconds. This was where they belonged.

Together.

All the pain, struggles, and heartbreak ebbed away as he poured his soul into the kiss. He had been craving this level of intimacy between them for what seemed an eternity. Her lips opened again, as they tenderly explored each other's mouths as if it was the first time they had ever touched. His tongue found hers and entered a passionate dance.

His pulse quickened as his hands lost their grip on hers. He could feel her hands in his hair, before they slipped down his back. His own hands found their way to the bare skin between her jeans and t-shirt. One of his thumbs hooking on one of the belt loops on her jeans, while his other hand ran up her body. As the kiss deepened, he could feel his sense of excitement growing. After what seemed like hours, they slowly broke apart.

Harry smiled at her as he regained his hold. She blushed turning a rich crimson colour, but there was no doubting that she was beautiful. Without a single thought, she was the woman for him. He had got it right, two years ago; he did not want to live his life without her.

Playfully, he kept hold of her wrists, pinning her to the ground. He could not help but smile at the state of disarray that her clothes were in and the grass that had woven its way into her hair, very thankful that her family were no where near them right now. As their eyes connected he knew what he wanted to do. He was no longer lost and it had taken his moments with Ginny to realise that. As long as the pair of them were side by side, the feeling of being lost had disappeared into the air.

"I love you," he could see the smile light up her face. It was the first time that he had said those three little words to her in over two years. "Marry me?"

The playful, slightly nervous expression on Ginny's face changed instantly. Her mouth had dropped open ever so slightly and her bright brown eyes had widened. The rich crimson colour from her earlier blushes had disappeared, yet her face was still glowing. Her breath had slowed down from her quick pants to a much more controlled one.

"Yes," she breathed, almost instantly, her smile extending to her entire face, "yes, I will."

Fin

Author's Note:

THANKS! CHEERS! NICE ONE!

This has been a long project for me and one I am very proud of. A story that would not have been the same without the support it has been given from many, many people so please allow me to gush for a minute, and as you read through my rambles, you will understand what an important role those mentioned have played in making this a readable story.

First, I would like to thank all the people that have taken the time to read this story, especially to those who have taken time to review. Those reviews have meant the world, encouraged me more than I could ever explain and been in a greater number than I could have ever dreamt was possible.

Large thank yous have to go out to all those wonderful people that have joined my yahoo group (http://uk.groups. for their support and the ideas that they have offered. You have had such a big role in helping the progression of this piece, from little things such as words of encouragement to picking Ginny's engagement ring and the place this epilogue took place.

Thank yous to all those who helped this piece get off the ground in the first place. Even though several of you are not involved any more for various reasons, your help and support was vital.

Then there are two very special women that I would like to name in person for their impact on making LOST how it stands here today.

First to Gerry, my wonderful beta. She has become a good friend as well as an excellent beta. Even if she had tried to get this lass from the north of England to stop using Americanisms. ;-) Without her this story would be a shadow of what it has grown to be. Thank you.

Second, and I hope she does not take offence at being left until the end, I have to say something about Prerna. P has made LOST what it is, challenging me, made the early drafts look good, talked through plot details (she is the only person that has known the whole plot from pretty much day one) and the characters involved. She in truth has devoted as much time to this story as I have. Not only that but she has become a true friend and has been wonderful throughout the last 18 or so months, especially in the last few weeks. The words, "thank you," do not seem enough.


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